Generations II: Birds of Prey
by Lakritzwolf
Summary: Sequel to Generations: Birds of a Feather. What more do I have to say?
1. Preface

Finally, the day you all have been waiting for: _(hrrhrrr, yes, I like to dream.)_ **THE SEQUEL.**

This is the sequel to Generations I : Birds of a Feather. _(No... please don't throw flowers at me. And no daggers, either.)_ This will make no sense whatsoever to you if you haven't read Generations I, so take your time and read that story if you haven't already.

No, I just couldn't leave them all behind just yet. I am still dreaming... and will you dream along with me?  
I am not done yet, I just kept getting too many ideas. This is all coming out of my poor head! ...one day I'm going to need a brain cooler.

**Disclaimers are considered valid for the whole story.**

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates, the Caribbean Sea, a chest, a dead man or a ship _(But I do have a wee lidded wooden box with a ship painted on it. I keep my jewellery in it)._ Nothing is mine, and one day I am going to cry about it.

Disclaimer II: In this story, there will be some views expressed regarding religion and slavery. These opinions stated are written purely for dramatical reasons, reflect the spirit of the time my story is set in and are **a)** NOT my personal ones and **b)** NOT indented to upset anyone in any way. It's fiction and/or history. I despise slavery and although I am not a person of faith, I respect other people's beliefs. Do not take anything you read here personal, please. Thanks.

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We join our beloved heroes again two months after Imogen, Jack and Billy parted in Tortuga.

So what about Jack and Elizabeth? Can Jack leave his past and piracy really behind? What will future hold for Billy and lil Josh? And what has become of the shattered self of poor Imogen? Will she be able to escape her run of bad luck?

A lot of burning questions... and here, finally, a lot of burning answers, a couple of songs... and a cello.

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Join in for the second round of the magic carpet ride.

Lakritzwolf.


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

Concentrating on the letter was impossible, and Jack threw down his quill with a sigh of frustration. The little maggot, bless his tiny heart, had been howling for almost an hour now, and nothing either Louise or Elizabeth had tried had done anything to calm him down. There was just nothing obviously wrong with him, he was fed, clean, dry, was being rocked and crooned at, but he kept howling and howling, sounding a little hoarse by now. It was a heart rendering sound.

With another sigh, Jack got up and left the desk. If he wanted to write the letter, he would have to go down to his own residence. He was, still, only a guest in this house, after all. He had bought a warehouse down at the pier with a storey of living quarters under the roof, atop the storage, and he still went there every night to sleep alone in his own bed. It was frustrating, but in proper society (he snorted inwardly as he walked down the hall) some things just couldn't be hurried.

He met Elizabeth who had just come up the stairs, the little red-faced Josh in her arms. He was still wailing, his face wet with tears and his little hands curled into fists.  
Elizabeth gave him a desperate stare. „I'm sorry about the noise, Jack, we just don't know what's wrong with him."  
Jack waved her apology aside and leaned forward to look at the boy. „Here little bugger, what's amiss?"  
Another yowl was his only answer.

„Give him to me", Jack said resolutely, reaching out for the boy. „He clearly finds your presence unbearable right now."  
„Jack…" She blinked, then scowled and pressed the baby into his arms. „Here's granddad", she said sweetly, knowing he hated to be called that particular word. He returned the scowl as he hugged the little two-months old Josh to his shoulder. „Here, little bugger, what have the ladies done to ye, hm? Fiddled with ye and dressed ye and all that, turning ye upside down and no mistake, I gather. Aye?"

Elizabeth was about to snap something but to her utter astonishment, Josh suddenly stopped howling and rubbed his face at Jack's shoulder a few times. Jack flashed her a sweet, impish grin as Josh sighed in what could possibly be only described as relief. „Here, that's better, ain't?", Jack muttered and tousled the silky mop of black hair. „Bad granny, what has she done to ye…"  
Elizabeth crossed her arms. „I was about to bless him with a dry nappy, as to give poor Louise a little break", she said dryly and Jack shook his head. „Well, show me where the stuff is, then, as some things obviously work better between men alone, Lizzie."

She dropped her arms again. „You?"  
He aped her. „Me?"  
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes again. „What do you know about…"  
"Caring for a baby?", he interrupted her. „Who d'ye think did that for Imogen? Pintel? Ragetti? Would ye have given a wailing infant to any of those scallywags?"  
„Eh… no", she had to admit and shrugged with an apologetic smile, feeling a little relieved when Jack winked at her.  
„Well, to be honest, Gibbs wasn't that bad, but he was about the only one I let at her when she was that small."

Smiling to herself, Elizabeth led Jack into the nursery and provided him with a clean sheet for a nappy.

„Well then, Master Joshamee", Jack began as he placed the still red-faced boy down onto the table. „I trust we will establish an agreement between the two of us, aye?"  
Josh stared at him while waggling arms and legs.  
„Seeing as I have put on a clean shirt this morning and all", Jack went on as he started peeling the boy out of his smock. „So, like, between you and me, mate, I'm sure we can handle this business like men."

Hiding her grin behind a hand, Elizabeth watched Jack deal with the squirming little bundle of extremities that babies always turn into when being changed. Yet Jack, being the man he was, seemed to always have one hand and a couple of fingers more than he technically could possess and she had to admit she had never thought him capable of doing that. And certainly not that efficiently.

"Now look at that", Jack said suddenly with a grin. „The lucky dud."  
„What is it?", Elizabeth said as she stepped beside him to look at Josh being tied up in a clean sheet.  
„See that?", Jack pointed to Josh's right hip. „Got a little star shaped birthmark there. Now what could that mean?" He turned his head to grin at Elizabeth, but the grin died as he saw her face. It had drained of all colour.  
„Lizzie?"  
She swallowed and shook her head.  
"Lizzie?", he asked again, cautiously this time. „What's the matter?"  
Elizabeth slowly looked up at him with tears in her eyes. „Billy had a birthmark like that", she said, and Jack slowly put his hand around hers that was gripping his upper arm. „He had a birthmark like that, it looked exactly the same… in exactly the same spot."

They both exchanged a long glance and then both looked back at the squirming infant under Jack's other hand.

„I thought he was well off for a child born more than a month early", Elizabeth said in a whisper and picked the boy up, hugging him to her chest. „Jack, I don't think he was."

Jack swallowed and slowly put one arm around her and the child in her arms as the realisation sunk in as to what this meant. That he was indeed Billy's… and that the two had made him before Barbossa had raped Imogen.

„…_flesh of my flesh, and blood of my blood…"_

Jack felt the hairs on his arms rise as he slowly leaned in and kissed Elizabeth's forehead. And now, finally, after so long a time, he found himself able to tell Elizabeth what he and Imogen had been talking about the night before he had left them in Curacao for Barbados.

„…_the only child of both your flesh that will ever be…"_

„Bless her", Elizabeth whispered after a while, leaning into Jack's embrace, the child in her arms. „She has returned the gift of life to you, hasn't she."  
„Aye, she has", Jack said and closed his arms around her and their grandson. „She has. Bless ye, me luv. I miss ye."

But the heartfelt drawn-out sigh of Josh between them made them both smile again.


	3. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Do I know you? _

Looking into the mirror, Imogen wasn't sure if she really could answer the question. But even if she didn't know the woman looking at her, she would better get used to her. More than two months, almost three, had passed since she had left Tortuga, and still, she couldn't decide if she knew whom was looking at her in the mirror. Maybe she never truly would. Picking up the comb, she stared into the mirror, hacking resolutely at the mass of still slightly wet curls, but what she saw was a starry sky and an empty horizon.

_Close to midnight, the silence of the foggy and wind still caribbean night hung above the ship like a heavy blanket. With the anchor dropped and the crew below deck, there was no sound to disturb the silence other than the gentle sloshing of the waves against the Albatross' hull. Into this silence the footfall of Imogen's boots on deck sounded to herself almost like the roaring of a cannon as she slowly left her vigil at the stern and walked towards the helm._

_Henningsen silently stepped away from the wheel, yet he did not walk below but stayed at her side without saying a word. Feeling grateful for his company, Imogen closed her hands around the spokes when a sudden realisation struck her.  
_„_Niels", she said quietly.  
_"_Cap'n?"  
_„_Thanks for rounding up me crew."  
_"_It's me duty, Cap'n."  
_„_Still. I never thought I'd see any of them again."  
_„_Vell." Henningsen shrugged. „It's true some of zem don't like ye very much, but ye've alvays been fair wiz ze booty, no mistake about zat."_

_Imogen pressed her lips together. „How are spirits below deck?"  
_„_Not too bad, I vould say", the Friesian gave back. „Zey've spent all zeir plunder on wimmin and drink, and a man is in a forgiving mood after zat."  
__The ghost of a smile flickered across Imogen's lips. „Do you have a woman, Niels?"  
__Her first mate chuckled. „Aye, I do. Got a missus and five little ones in Tortuga."  
__Imogen turned her head to look at him. „Ye're married?"  
__He nodded with a wink. „Aye, and she's still happy to see me every time I come ashore."_

_The flicker on Imogen's lips turned into a true smile although she felt tears burn in her throat yet again at the thought of children, because she could not stop herself thinking about the sleeping face of her son.  
_„_Sometimes", Henningsen went on in a very thoughtful tone, „Sometimes I can't wait for the twins, me only sons, to grow old and strong enough to come to sea viz me."  
__Imogen slowly turned her head again and found him looking intensely at her.  
_„_It's not going to happen", she whispered and stared straight ahead again.  
_„_Ye never know", he gave back and with a squeeze of his hand around her shoulder, he left the helm to her and headed below._

_"I don't want it to happen", she whispered into the empty night, but then she also knew that what she wanted was often enough out of question_.

A lot of things she hadn't wanted to happen, however, had happened due to her own fault. Straightening down her shirt, she took another deep breath and left her ship, heading for the governor's residence. The last two times she had been in Curacao she hadn't seen him, but now, almost three months had passed since her terrible, shameful blunder and very slowly could she think about facing him again.

_I don't want this to happen, either,_ she thought. With a slight burning feeling at the back of her neck and a dry throat, she faced the large wooden doors, trying to ignore the stares of the guards. _But I'll have to. It's not going to get any better if I keep on avoiding confronting him. _

No more charades. No more games. No more silly misbehaving. She straightened herself again and decided that maybe, if she was able to pull this through, maybe she would be able to look into a mirror again sometimes without the burning feeling of shame.

x x x x x x x x

„Herman?" Lucas van Huuiten gave the servant an irritated look as the man hovered in the door without saying a word.  
„Eh…"  
His voice had a slight tang of impatience. „Yes?"  
„Captain… um… Sparrow."  
Van Huuiten felt his eyebrows shoot up on their own accord. „A message?"  
"No", the servant said, looking as if he was about to wrench his hands in agony. „Captain Sparrow. In… person."  
„Ah." Van Huuiten slowly folded his hands on the desk. „In person." No wonder the man seemed to upset.  
„Indeed", the servant said and stepped aside, glad to be finally relieved from the irritating presence of the Captain standing behind him.  
Imogen gave the servant a nod and stepped through the door. She could have sworn the man crossed himself behind her back. „Governor van Huuiten", she said with a nod.

Van Huuiten was, for once, not sure if he should trust his eyes. But then, if he couldn't trust his own eyes, then whose eyes could he trust, indeed? Yet the person standing before him was so unlike the one he remembered that he had to lean back in his chair to give her a longer, assessing look.

Not only was she sparkling clean, having obviously taken a bath this time before coming here after her time on sea, but she also wore a different set of clothing. A simple man's shirt with no buttons, a dark leather vest, a pair of new breeches and a grey coat that reached her knees. Her boots were clean, the hat was dusted off and her hair was swept back in a tight braid that hung down between her shoulders.

And she was still standing and looking straight ahead.

„Take a seat, Captain."  
„Thank you, sir", she said with a nod and sat down.  
_Sir?_ „What can I do for you, Captain?" He had, on his side, intended to let the matter of her last departure rest as a false memory, never to be mentioned or even thought about again. But she seemed to be of a different opinion, to judge by the way she carried herself.  
„I came to pay my respects, sir", she said with an unmoving face. „And to ask if there are any amendments or additions to my duties by now. Politics is a game of ever shifting balances, is it not? I heard a lot of rumours from Europe."  
„I would not put too much on any of those rumours carried by bored and superstitious seamen across a thousand miles of ocean, Captain." He leaned back and folded his hands on the table before him. Her sudden formality was something he would have to get used to if she had not just put on this attire for their first meeting after her unlucky departure last time.

„That is why I am here, sir." Imogen still didn't move a muscle in her face. „Every rumour has a grain of truth in it, and I just want to make sure I don't miss out on any vital information concerning me and my duty."  
„In that case rest assured that there is, as of yet, no information that does, Captain."  
She nodded mutely.

Van Huuiten lifted his brows and leaned forward again. „Is there something else, Captain?"  
Imogen took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. „Governor van Huuiten", she began, looking at him again, squarely into his eyes. „I also want to say how deeply ashamed I am of my unforgivable behaviour during our last encounter. I know that I can't undo the damage that I have done, but I want you to know…  
"Captain", van Huuiten interrupted her. „I on my part was ever since inclined to treat this unlucky incident as something that has never happened. I am fully aware of the circumstances you were in."

He looked her over and she pressed her lips together for a second before answering.  
„Still, this is no excuse to pay so little heed to my surroundings or the persons I had been dealing with. Or myself and my own actions, for that matter."  
„Well, I can agree with that", van Huuiten said in a diplomatic voice. „And if it is my forgiveness you are asking for, then you shall have it, Captain."  
Imogen stared at her hands in her lap. „Thank you, sir."

„Captain", he said then, leaning forward even more, his voice suddenly very gentle. „I hope everything went well."  
She looked at him again, a slight furrow in her brow. „No", she said plainly and he blinked. „I almost died. It did not go well, but it ended well."  
„Did it?" He felt strangely touched that the first sign of feeling he saw in her eyes was very clearly a deep and sincere pain. „So where is the child?"  
„He is gone", Imogen said tonelessly and van Huuiten slowly narrowed his eyes.  
„I am sorry", he began, but Imogen shook her head.  
„He is not dead. He is with his father and grandparents. They will take care of him and raise him, far away from me and my presence. He will be a better man for that, I am sure."  
„You are being very harsh with yourself, Captain", van Huuiten said in a gentle voice.  
Imogen shrugged. „It is nothing but the truth. The less he will be like me, the better. Do you have any further instructions for me, sir?"

„Indeed I have not, Captain", van Huuiten said and leaned back. „I trust we will speak again soon, and regularly, at that, seeing as I may have instructions for you in the near future. As you have observed, Europe is shifting in her dreams, and if we do not stay alert, the colonies might find themselves being pushed out of the bed."  
Imogen nodded and slowly got up. „Will once every month be sufficient, sir?"  
„It will be, Captain. I bid you a good day." He watched her turn with another nod and head for the door, but before she turned the handle he hailed her again. „Captain?"  
„Sir?" She turned again to look at him and he smiled slightly.  
„I wish you steady winds, Captain Sparrow", he said and the left corner of her mouth twitched into the tiniest notion of a smile.  
„Thank you, sir", was all she said and left his office.

He kept staring at the door, but with a decisive movement, he pushed back his chair and got up to walk over to the window beside his desk. Folding his hands behind his back, he watched the road below and the people that were going on about their daily business until the main doors opened and she walked out unto the street, adjusting her hat as she passed the outer gates.

He was surprised at how much she had changed. There seemed to be nothing left of that wild and fierce, disturbing and irritating creature who had first entered his office some months ago, completely having her ways with him.  
_Well, it takes two to twist a rope, true,_ he thought. _And it is not that I haven't enjoyed what I let her do._ But he had to admit that rarely in his life had someone so been able to take advantage of him.

That seemed to be behind her, she truly seemed to be someone else now. She had matured during the last few months, but beyond the span of time that had, in fact, passed. She looked, for all that was worth, at least ten years older.  
Yet that as such was not a bad thing, in itself. What really bothered him, and he found it hard to admit, was the way her eyes looked at the world now. The fire, the sparkle, the shine that had fascinated him so, was completely gone, and no longer did they look like the eyes of a bird of prey. They were dull and dark, like well aged and unpolished oak wood. It caused him a strange feeling of regret to see her like that, and he shook his head as he watched her vanish into the crowd.  
„You are a very foolish man if you let this happen", he said to himself. _But that was rather futile, wasn't it? If it hadn't already happened, I would not be thinking of it._

He went back to his desk, but after staring at the papers for some time, he found himself unable to deal with anything that was waiting for him there and left his office to take refuge in his music.

In an irritating fit of frustration, he threw his wig onto the table as he reached his private study before settling down on the chair where his beloved cello leant. Gently taking the instrument between his knees, he closed his fingers around the neck and picked up the bow. He had quite recently received some new sheets of music from an old acquaintance in Europe, and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity to try them out.

Concentrating on the sheets on the music stand before him, he turned the little mysterious marks into music with his long and slender fingers, finally able to forget the disturbing memories of the last half hour.


	4. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Captain McGuyre,_

_Your letter has indeed reached me in best health and spirits, and I can only return the hope that my response does so likewise for your own person. _

_First of all, let me congratulate you for your upcoming marriage, may god hold his hands over you and your future wife and bless the union with happiness._

_Secondly, I express my sincere heartfelt best wishes for your grandson who has, as you stated in your letter, by now received the grace of the church and now rests under god's trusting hands, as well. _

_I must admit your request has taken me by surprise, but even though, I am honoured that you would consider me a worthy and suitable choice for this responsibility. Let me say now that yes, I will gladly accept and take the duty to be the godfather of your grandson. Please find enclosed the baptism ring my own godfather has given me, I have worn it now for most of my grown life and I am pleased and only too happy to now pass it on to my own godson. _

_I do hope I will have the chance of meeting the young master at one point in my life, and remain in faith to be hearing from him, through you, as to how he fares and how matter are. I will enclose him, and all your family, Captain, in my prayers from now on. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lucas Ignatius Erik van Huuiten_

_Postscriptum: __To rest your mind, I have indeed not spoken to your daughter about this arrangement as I fully agree it would, indeed, only cause her further grief. But I will also have to state that, should she ask, I have no intention of lying to her. I hope this finds your understanding._

_LvH_

Jack leaned back with a slow smile and looked at the ring on the palm of his right hand, a simple, plain band of gold on a chain. He hadn't been too sure about the whole matter, at first, and he still wasn't fully convinced it was a good idea to ask the governor of Curacao to be Josh's godfather. But on the other hand, reading his words again, he had to admit that they sounded quite sincere. Of course, he had no doubt about it that van Huuiten could fool the devil, but in this matter, why on earth should he?

And he himself, he had certainly not lied when he had written that with him and Elizabeth not the youngest any more and Bill about to take over his business in a few years, it would ease his mind if there was someone else in the world who could hold a hand over little Josh. And whatever else he thought about van Huuiten, he knew him, and beyond doubt now, to be a man of honour who stood to his word.

A fine gift it was, he thought as he got up and reached for his cane. A fine thing for a day as this.

He stood up and had another look around. The last of his personal belongings had been picked up by two of Elizabeth's servants a couple of hours ago, and tonight, finally, he would not come back here to sleep in the narrow bunk alone.

Not that he minded the bunk, certainly not him who had spent most of his grown life on a ship. It was the loneliness he minded, and the last blissful nights he had spent at Elizabeth's side on his ship were quite a while ago now. With a smile of anticipation, he made his way down the stairs and locked the door behind him.

As he walked across the pier he had a look at his ship again, rocking on the gentle surf, and he had to resist the urge to walk over and pat her rump, scolding himself that he really was getting soppy with his old age. Despite that he smiled to himself as he left the harbour behind and made his way through the city, tipping the brim of his hat that sat firmly on his wig every now and then to a passer by who hailed him. The honourable captain. Whom people greeted in the street. What a strange feeling that was.

But an even stranger feeling was right now growing stronger with every step he made. A slight clenching feeling in his guts combined with a slightly fluttering heart…  
_Nervous?_ He scolded himself, again. _Why on earth is that? Ye've married her already, remember?  
_Well, he had. But not with a crowd of people watching. Not that there would be a crowd. He had asked for the ceremony itself to be kept rather private, and he couldn't even say why.  
_And what's there about it? Ye say I do, ye slip a ring onto her finger, and whoever cares to watch, let them stare. No need to make any fuss about it.  
_Yet for a reason he couldn't quite grasp, it wasn't as simple as that. But with him, could anything ever be simple? He almost grinned.

He stopped when he reached the house that Elizabeth had inherited from her father and that, from today on, would be his house and his home, as well.  
Home. Another strange feeling. For the last thirty-odd years, home had been his cabin on his ship. And suddenly there was a whole house, with servants and a garden and balconies and… and a wife. Another slow smile spread on his lips as he took a step forward and knocked at the door with the knob of his cane.

As he stepped past the servant that let him in with a bow (something else he would have to get used to), he noticed the bustle and hassle of activity in the house. Serving maids were hurrying past him, carrying stuff, servants readied and re-arranged tables and all in all, he felt as forlorn as a grasshopper in an anthill… about to be carved up and be served as the hœr-deuvre any minute. He smiled wryly and walked up the stairs in the hopes of finding Elizabeth somewhere amidst all the business. Or Billy. Someone who still seemed to be sane.

Looking indecisively around, he thought that he might as well start right where he stood, which was the door to the room he had spent his time in when he had been bedridden after his accident. It was going to be his study, he knew that much, the more did it surprise him, as he opened the door, to find a shirt and a coat and vest spread out on the table.  
„I guess that probably means I have to change", Jack muttered with a wry smile and leaned his cane against a wall after closing the door behind him.

Yet he had to admit, as he watched his reflection in the mirror, that whoever had made the shirt had done a very good job. Made from bourette-silk, it fit perfectly well, and it had finely carved ivory buttons matching the slight off-white of the fabric. There wasn't too much lace, either, just about enough to make it look elegant and not gaudy in any way. Looking at himself, he began to guess who had made up the designs of this piece of clothing.

The vest and coat were a match to the shirt, made from fine material yet elegant in their simplicity and Jack had to admit with a grin at his reflection that he looked rather strapping. He looked every inch the wealthy merchant and captain that he was supposed to be. That he was. Now. Again.

It was a rather good thing that he had cleaned and even oiled the leather of his hat, he thought as he adjusted that particular item of wardrobe on his wig.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. „Jack?"  
„Come in, Billy."  
"Ah, I see you found the items mother had meant for you", he said as he closed the door behind him. „I must say they suit you well."  
"Doesn't surprise me if she has chosen them", Jack remarked and adjusted his collar.  
„Well, if you are ready, everyone else seems to be, as well", Bill said. „Nervous?"  
"No, why?", Jack lied and gave Bill a tiny smile.  
Bill grinned and opened the door. „I'll see you outside, Jack."

Outside was, in that case, the garden behind the house. Still feeling a bit forlorn in the organized chaos around him in which he obviously had no place although everyone else seemed to know exactly what to do, he sauntered down the path towards the lower end of the garden where you could watch the bay and the sea beyond.

It was there he saw a small crowd of people waiting, including the priest, and with a sigh, he had to admit that Elizabeth had chosen a location to his own heart's content. She knew well he wasn't a man of faith, but here, in this spot, the sea could be his witness, again. He smiled softly to himself as he came to halt before the priest who gave him a friendly nod.

Staring out across the bay, he wondered again if all this was really worth it… but remembering the sheen in her eyes as she had, in the dark and windy night on the deck of his ship, sworn to him to be his, the only answer could be yes, and a very heartfelt one.

Among the people who were waiting there was Louise, carrying Josh in her arm, and Jack walked over to poke little Josh to make the boy grin and to distract himself from strange moods. Louise smiled at him as he reached them, and for the first time ever, at that. He had never seen her smile before.

"There she comes", he heard the priest say, and walked back to take his place in front of him, turning around to watch his bride approach. And suddenly, he had to swallow his heart that had jumped into his throat.

Bill was walking her towards him, her arm slipped through his, and despite the fact that he had married her already, despite the fact that he knew there was so many reasons not to make such a fuss about it, despite all this, he felt his heart suddenly race and his mouth go dry.

She carried a small bouquet of flowers, and a silken veil covered her hair and face, but it was neither that nor the blush on her cheeks that made him swallow at her appearance. It was the dress. It was… the dress. She had gone to the length of having the dress re-made she had been wearing when he had first laid his eyes on her, all those years ago. And suddenly, all those years were all but forgotten as he took her arm from Bill and she smiled shyly up at him.

He slowly removed his hat and handed it to Bill, along with his cane, who took it and stepped back, standing next to Louise and his son.

„Dearly beloved", the priest began as Jack and Elizabeth stood before him. „We have gathered here today to celebrate the union of two people in love. A man and a woman have found each other, and have asked the lord to bless their union in the holy vows of matrimony. And so I ask you, if there be any one amongst of you who knows of a reason for this union to be forfeit, so he shall speak now or remain forever silent."  
Since no one spoke (Jack couldn't quite suppress a very slight feeling of relief), the priest nodded. „So be it. Hear the words of our lord!"

Jack and Elizabeth slowly turned to face each other as the priest called the blessing of the lord down on the congregation and the couple before him. Jack could see it in Elizabeth's eyes that she was as agitated as he felt when the priest finally got to the significant part.

„Do you, Jonathan Jacob McGuyre, take the here present Elizabeth Sarah Turner nee Swann, to be your beloved wife, to stand by her side in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for now and unto death shall part you?"  
„I do", Jack said, not taking his eyes off Elizabeth's, shining like diamonds as she smiled up at him with the most becoming blush on her cheeks.

„And do you, Elizabeth Sarah Turner, take the here present Jonathan Jacob McGuyre to be your beloved husband, to stand by his side in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for now and until death shall part you?"  
„I do", Elizabeth said, but her voice did not really carry. The priest leaned forward and said with a friendly smile „This must be spoken out loud, Elizabeth."  
Several people tried to suppress a chuckle and Elizabeth did likewise, covering her mouth with her hand for a second. Then she cleared her throat and looked at Jack again. „I do", she said, clearly and audibly this time.

„The rings, please", the priest said and Bill stepped forward again, handing the priest the rings. He exchanged a small smile with Jack before stepping back as the priest blessed the rings and gave one, a simple, golden band, to Elizabeth. She took Jack's right hand in hers. „With this ring I take you, Jonathan, as my husband", she said as she slipped the ring onto his finger. „And I will care for you and love you, now and ever after."

Jack smiled warmly down at her as the priest handed the other ring to him. „With this ring, I take you, Elizabeth, as my wife", he said, enjoying the look on her face as she stared at the ring with slowly widening eyes. It was a simple golden band as well, but on it, mounted in finely woven golden wire, was a black pearl. „And I will protect you and love you, now and ever after." Lost in her eyes, he forgot to turn around and face the priest again, but so did she.

„In the name of the father, the son and the holy ghost", the priest said. „All of you have heard, and all of you have seen that today, these two have made their vows to each other before god and men. I hereby proclaim you husband and wife, for what god has meant for each other, man shall not put asunder." Then he smiled at Jack „You may now kiss the bride."

Jack leaned forward and slowly lifted the veil over her head. Smiling affectionately down at her, he put a finger under her chin and then met her lips with his.

x x x x x x x x

The rest of the day went by in a slight haze. Jack shook countless hands, grinned until his face hurt and all in all, was immensely relieved when the guests slowly started to retreat. By that time it was long after midnight, however, and by now he had toasted with so many people that he was feeling more than slightly drunk although he had never had a glass much larger than a thimble.

He had lost Elizabeth sometimes during the last few departures and as he was walking through the garden looking for her, he suddenly heard voices coming from the left. As he came closer, however, he realised that the woman he had heard Bill talk to was not Elizabeth but Louise and that the pearling laughter he had heard had been her.

The two just rounded the corner, walking side by side but not really close to each other, sharing a friendly smile, and Bill was carrying the sleeping Josh. Jack looked at them after a while and had to admit that they seemed to get along well together, indeed. He had to suppress a smile as he stepped free from the doorway to meet them.

„Billy", Jack said after a nod to Louise. „I've lost me bride."  
„The last time I saw her was not so long ago, and she was walking down the garden path", Bill replied with a grin.  
„Thank ye kindly", Jack muttered and left them.

When he reached the bottom of the garden he found her indeed standing there, staring out at the bay. „Lizzie?"  
She spun around and smiled. „Jack!"  
He hadn't quite expected her to throw herself into his arms like that, but he certainly didn't mind it. Closing his arms around her he held her tight, smiling down at her. „Missed me so much?"

„I did", she said, resting her hands on his cheeks. „But I had to get away from all these people for a moment."  
"So did I", he gave back. „And I've just about had enough of shaking hands and drinking toasts. There's only one thing left I'd like to drink right now."  
"And what would that be?", she asked, lowering her lids as he leaned forward.  
„The vision of you with your skirts above your ears", he muttered and cupped her cheeks in his hands. „Preferably somewhere private."

Elizabeth chuckled and he grinned. „Why don't we go back inside, then?", she asked in a silky voice. „The servants will be able to deal with the last people still left, if there are any."  
„I can only agree", Jack said under his breath and brushed her lips with his. „God, Lizzie, you're so beautiful. How can you be so beautiful and still be mine alone?"  
„To each man what he deserves", she said with a smile and he leaned back again.  
„I must have been a really good man, if that's the case. Yet I know I wasn't."  
„You are", she said. „I always said that, didn't I? You are a good man."

He looked at her for quite a while, the skin twitching across his cheekbones. „Aye, it must be true", he whispered after a while. „I must be a really good man if I deserve that, and here I never even noticed."  
Elizabeth chuckled softly. „You were busily trying to deny, last time I mentioned it."  
He had to laugh as well. „Maybe I was mistaken", he said and took her right hand to kiss it. With a warm smile, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, toying with the ring.

„Jack", Elizabeth said after a while"What is it, luv?"  
"Where did you get the pearl?"  
He slowly looked up and flashed her one of his roguish Sparrow-grins. „I stole it."  
"What?"  
"From you."

She blinked, then her eyes slowly widened and she took the locket that hung around her neck, opened it and found it empty. She looked at Jack again with narrowed eyes. „When?"  
"Oh, quite a while ago."  
Shaking her head in disbelief, yet smiling all the same, she touched his cheek and sighed. „Jack, you never cease to amaze  
me."  
He grinned and winked. „Hope so, luv. The last thing I want is ye being bored of me."  
„As if I ever could!"  
"Ye never know", he said in a deep voice and leaned forward again. „But I'll do me best to avoid it." Then he pulled her close and kissed her, feverishly and passionately, and she opened her lips to him and responded to his kiss in a manner that made him want to ravish her on the spot.

„Lizzie", he whispered as he broke the kiss. „I love you so much it hurts."  
Elizabeth chuckled and laid a hand on his heart. „Where does it hurt you, love?"  
He blinked, but then chuckled as well. „Everywhere."  
„Is there something I can do to ease your suffering?"  
„Aye." Jack grinned and swept her up into his arms. „But that's best done in privacy", he went on and, still grinning, carried her inside and upstairs.


	5. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tugging a strand of hair behind her ear, Imogen narrowed her eyes and slowly took out her spying glass. No, she had not been mistaken, there was a naval battle going on at the horizon. With a tiny smile, she ordered her crew into action and with a creaking rigging and billowing sails, the Albatross leaned sideways and crossed the winds, heading for the two specks at the horizon that were two ships engaged in battle.

Maybe there were some spoils she could pick up. There were two damaged ships, and even with the Albatross only a barque, they could be easy prey. The last two times she had come into Wilhelmstad she had done so empty-handed, and even if the governor hadn't blamed her, taking money from him to pay her crew wasn't something she would like to do anytime soon again.

She hated the way he looked at her. She was never sure if he was mocking or pitying her, if he was put off by anything she had said or rather slightly amused. And she never, ever knew if she was saying something wrong, so she simply tried to say as little as possible.

Yet as to why it mattered to her what he thought of her, she didn't know. She only knew she neither wanted to be pitied nor mocked by him, yet to be treated with respect… Now that was something she, a pirate and privateer, had no right to expect.

How she ever could have thought she could pocket this man as easily as she had done so often before with so many other men escaped her. Had she employed the tiniest bit more sense when she had been so industriously seducing him the first time, she should have realised that no one, ever, did something with this man that he did not choose to let happen. But she had been too busy feeling smug, and thus hadn't noticed until it was too late. Until she had ruined any possibility of a respectful business relationship.

All was left now was to remain as distanced and correct as possible, and to make sure something alike would never happen again. She snorted with a wry grin. Not that that was likely, now. The only thing left to her to remain useful and to assure herself of his disposition towards her was to do a good job with everything he told her to do. As if there ever had been another way. She had just imagined one. But not with him. Certainly not.

How could she have been so stupid! She wrenched the wheel around with an angry grunt, but what was done was done, and what was shattered could not be mended again.  
_Spilt milk, and all that. And no one to blame but me. _

But at least he had shown her the grace of forgiveness and had treated her no differently for that. Yet she could not forget his eyes, cold and harsh as splintered granite, as she had crossed that line then, and she shame of it would haunt her for the rest of her sorry existence.

„The colours, Captain! The colours!"

The cry of her crewman broke the ghastly trail of thoughts and she turned her head to watch the ships they were approaching. One vessel was a brigantine, slightly larger than the Albatross herself, and regarding the number of hatches, better armed, at that.

And she was flying a Jolly Roger.

The other ship, however, was a barque, as well, and she was flying the dutch flag. Imogen narrowed her eyes and turned the wheel again to cruise around the dutch merchantman and the pirate, taking him between her and the dutch vessel.

„All hands on battle stations!", Imogen yelled and the men broke into action, half of them vanishing below deck to man the cannons.

The crew of the dutch ship was hopelessly outnumbered and it was clear that the pirates were already taking over the ship, the last dozen dutch men were already capitulating and surrendering their weapons. Another quick calculating look at the merchant vessel and the pirate, taking in the damage the brigantine had taken already from the merchant, and her mind was made up. It surprised her a little, however, when the pirate captain hailed her.

„The young Sparrow, is it not!", he yelled, brandishing his sabre. „I suggest we put the differences of ours aside and behave like true gentlemen of fortune! We could half the plunder, and sell the ship as well! What say you?"

Imogen slowly crossed her arms. Her and Captain Madison's paths had crossed more than once in Tortuga, but she couldn't really say she knew the man.  
_Gentlemen of fortune,_ she thought with a wry grin. _He sounds like an old-school pirate. Like Jack… but with less common sense.  
_But she wasn't a pirate anymore, and she knew that Madison only knew her through her father, and her father wouldn't have done what she did now. _And I am not a gentleman._

„Hoist the colours", she said to Henningsen, and with a slight smile, he jumped down to the mast and hoisted the flag. The dutch flag.

It was a rather satisfying sight to see the pirate captain's face fall apart completely as he saw the dutch flag climb up the mast, and even as he spun around again to yell something at her, Imogen smiled and pulled her own sabre.  
„It's Captain Sparrow! FIRE!"  
A full broadside from the Albatross hit the hull of the pirate ship in a cloud of splinters.  
„CHARGE!"

Baffled and completely taken unawares, the pirate crew took too long to rally into defence as the crew of the Albatross swept over them, and their captain, still on the merchant vessel with the other half of his crew, could suddenly only watch helplessly as Imogen's men swarmed across his ship and below deck to overcome the last few men still guarding the cannons.

At this point the dutch crew broke out in screams and hoorays and rallied themselves, picking up dropped weapons and charging at their former victors.

Looking around on deck, Imogen followed a sudden impulse and headed for the captain's cabin, realising on her way below deck that the hull was already beginning to fill with water. Some of the Albatross' cannonballs must have hit below the waterline.

Imogen hurried along and found the cabin she was looking for, and there, without bothering with lock picking and using a fired pistol ball to unlock the desk, she found indeed what she had hoped she just might find. Grinning to herself, she pocketed the document and made her way upwards again.

On deck the fighting was already almost over. Most pirates were dead and the few men still alive on the merchantman were now overcome and chained. Imogen jumped the railing from the brigantine onto the dutch barque and turned to yell at Henningsen who was still manning the wheel.  
„Another broadside, Henningsen!"  
He nodded. „Cannons ready!", he yelled and, after a few moments when the lead cannonier waved at him: „FIRE!"

Another cloud of splinters followed the impact of the cannonballs and the ship started to creak and groan dangerously. Quickly, the crew of the Albatross dispersed onto their own ship again and Imogen watched the pirate vessel sink with mixed feelings.

On the one hand, she was doing her job, and for the authorities she was now living for this was a job well done. Yet on the other hand, she could not feel a slight tang of guilt, she felt like a traitor, and she could not help wondering what her father would have to say to her about that. But surely, he had sunk a pirate ship in his life, as well, she thought. She couldn't imagine him not having done so. And finally, he was no pirate. As little as she was a pirate herself. She had the proof sitting in her vest, after all.

She shook this feeling off and faced the dutch captain.

He stared at her, first with eyes widening in astonishment, but as Imogen narrowed her eyes, he shook his head and cleared his throat before showering her with a long and rather emotional speech, of which she didn't understand a single word since he spoke purely dutch. She shrugged helplessly and looked around.

"Anyone here have the english tongue?", she asked around, looking back at the captain.  
He grinned. „Me do", he said. „Not well, but enough to say dank you. De governor will hear of dis."  
Imogen nodded. „We will accompany you to Curacao", she said. „Your ship is a little worse for wear."  
The captain looked around. „Ay ay. Danks again."

She felt the eyes of the whole dutch crew, and especially those of the captain, follow her across the deck, even after she had jumped the railing of the Albatross who had, after the pirate ship had vanished, cruised in alongside the dutch vessel.

„We follow the merchant to Wilhelmstad", she informed her crew as she went to take the helm of Henningsen. „All hands alert!"

Crossing before the wind the Albatross turned and followed the merchant south who, due to the damage of her hull and rigging, only got along very slowly.

x x x x x x x x

After they had finally reached the harbour, Imogen lost no time this time with cleaning herself up and followed the dutch captain, who introduced himself as Jan-Peter Uettersen, to the governors residence. He constantly talked during the whole time it took them to walk there in a terrible mixture of english, dutch and what could have been german, until Imogen finally had the feeling that surely, by now there had to be blood trickling out of her ears any moment.

Only when they were admitted into the governor's office did Uettersen finally leave her be and started at the governor instead, who, undiminished and as reserved and polite as he was, listened to the rant and occasionally answered the man in dutch, asking a question now and then until he seemed finally satisfied with the captain's account. Imogen wasn't sure how you could possibly tell such a simple story in so many words.

„Captain Sparrow", he said then. „Seeing as you do not speak dutch, a slight oversight on my side that we will have to remedy, I will relate to you what Captain Uettersen told me."  
Imogen nodded.  
"He said he was being attacked by a pirate, and as he saw another sail at the horizon, was not sure if he was saved or doomed. He also said the pirate captain seemed to know you when you approached and Uettersen then thought he was doomed, for sure." He raised his eyebrows and Imogen pursed her lips.

"I did know the man, sir, although not well. Our paths have crossed in Tortuga a couple of times, but that was years ago when I was still part of my father's crew."  
„Ah, I see. So you, honourably, hoisted the dutch flag and sunk the pirates, saving the merchant and her wares and crew."  
„Aye, sir."  
„Recommendable. And you even escorted the poor vessel here, through the dangerous waters of the Spanish Main, to make sure she would reach Wilhelmstad safely."  
"Aye, sir."

Van Huuiten nodded with a slight smile that made Imogen feel strangely warm due to the fact that it actually communicated some feeling and wasn't just a polite twitch of his lips. To have him acknowledge her deeds positively made her feel immensely relieved. She had a lot to make up for.

The governor exchanged a few other words with Uettersen before the captain, with a friendly grin and bow for Imogen, left his office and they were alone.

„Take a seat, captain", van Huuiten said and Imogen sat down with a nod.  
"Thank you, sir."  
Van Huuiten shook his head. „He is quite a character, Captain Uettersen", he said with a slight hint of humorous desperation in his voice. „It is quite a task to extract solely the information that is of interest to oneself of him, alone."  
Imogen tried to hide a grin, but allowed herself a tiny smile when the governor himself twitched a corner of his mouth.

„Captain, I am impressed", he said then. „I genuinely am. And rest assured, the authorities in Amsterdam will hear of your merit of today. This might yet come back to you, Captain, seeing as the war between England and the Dutch Republic has flared up again in earnest. We need every lever we can find against the english hold here."  
„Funny you should mention it", Imogen said with a satisfied feeling and only the tiniest bit of a smug grin. Van Huuiten raised his brows and Imogen brought forth the document hidden inside her vest and placed it on the governor's desk.

„What do we have here", van Huuiten said and took the leather-bound document, opened and unfolded it, and Imogen watched his eyebrows rise further and further as he read it. Finally, he took a deep breath and slowly put the document down. "Where…", he asked, leaning forward with narrowing eyes, „…did you get this, Captain?"  
Imogen smiled slightly. „I found it in the captain's cabin of the pirate vessel that now rests at the bottom of the ocean", she said. „Said pirate who is still, along with what remains of his crew, sitting in the brigg of my ship, governor."

Van Huuiten leaned slowly back in his chair and folded his hands on his desk. „Captain", he said with a true smile, and for the first time, at that. „You have impressed me today, with your actions as well as your thinking. I assure you again, this shall not go unnoticed. Can I ask you a question?"  
"Surely, sir." Imogen sat up straight again.  
„What stopped you from taking over the merchant vessel after sinking the pirate ship? Or cooperating with the pirate ship, at that?"

Imogen slowly lifted her brow. „I thought I was sailing for the dutch, under the dutch flag?"  
„True", van Huuiten said with a tiny smile. „But you are only bought, if you forgive me my plump words."  
Imogen shrugged. „I am bought, I am fully aware of that. But I am also aware that our arrangement only works as long as I am of use to you. And I will do my best to keep it like this."  
"Well, I must say right now you seem to have been very useful, indeed."  
„And maybe I felt the need to impress my superiors."  
Van Huuiten slowly lifted his brows again. „And that, as well, has been a successful undertaking, Captain, rest assured of that."  
Imogen couldn't help but smile. „Thank you, sir."

Van Huuiten got up and walked towards the window, beckoning her towards him. Feeling slightly puzzled, Imogen rose as well and stood beside him, following his gaze out of the window.

„Captain", he began. „There are a lot of things on my mind. As I have told you, there is a war looming ahead of us and I do not know, nor can I fathom any possibilities, as to how it might affect us here, in the new world. Yet I do not have any doubts that it will and in all this chaos, and all these many courses of action…", he turned and looked at her, and Imogen faced him as well, „…it is a relief to have someone out there on whose ability to think and act correctly I can rely on", he finished and tilted his head.  
Imogen swallowed. „Thank you, sir."

„I thank you", he said with a slightly lopsided smile. „Knowing that there is at least one whom I can rely on is worth a lot. There are spies everywhere, as I am sure you are aware of, captain. I can never be too sure whom to trust, yet from today on, it seems I can trust you, Captain Sparrow. If it is not a fine ruse on your part to make me do so to fall into my back any moment as soon as I stop watching you." He cocked one eyebrow and Imogen crossed her arms.

"I was but jesting, Captain", van Huuiten said before she could reply, yet he looked at her rather sternly, somehow belying his words, and gestured out of the window. „I am rather attached to this city, captain", he went on as Imogen relaxed her face again. „Although it is nothing like my beloved Utrecht, I feel at home here and I am responsible for these people. And I intend to let as little harm as possible befall the people of Wilhelmstad and the whole of Curacao in the coming war. I hope you are on my side, captain."  
"I thought we had settled that, sir", she said and dropped her arms again.

"We did", he said simply. „You could have easily met your own ends then, captain, yet you did not. And if that is not loyalty, then I do not know what is. No one had ever needed to know." He looked at her again and Imogen slowly raised her brows.  
„I did what I thought was right", she said and van Huuiten smiled again, an honest smile like the one before.  
"That is what I was referring to. I will rely on you doing what you think is right in the future, as well, captain, and will have one trouble less on my mind."

Then he turned again and she followed him to the door which he opened for her. „I bid you a good day, Captain Sparrow. I will see you in a month's time."  
Imogen nodded. „A good day to you, sir."

The governor bowed his head and closed the door silently behind her and Imogen had no words for the feeling of relief that washed through her. She could never undo the damage she had done, true… but she seemed to have enabled herself to re-built what she had shattered.


	6. Chapter 4

Author's note: The song is "I will set my ship in order" , trad., as sung by Capercaillie.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 4**

„I'm sorry, Jack…"  
Jack couldn't suppress a groan as Elizabeth slipped out of the bed beside him. Little Josh was teething, and he intended to let the whole world know. Louise herself had not had a single undisturbed night's sleep in three weeks, and had fallen sick a couple of days ago, suffering from a slight fever and a weakness of stomach. So Elizabeth had taken up the duty, for a few nights, at least, until she was recovered, to care for Josh during the nights to enable the poor lass to sleep and recover.

With a sigh, Jack closed his eyes again as the wailing from the nursery ebbed off, but he found himself unable to fall asleep again. He turned around and stared at the empty pillow beside him. Had he grown used to having her sleep beside him so fast, within the two months that they were now married, that he already was unable to find rest without her there beside him? And here he had thought he'd never even get used to sleep in a proper bed instead of a bunk or a hanging cot.

This life still seemed strange to him, in more than one way. Everything had happened so fast, in so short a time… less than a year ago, he had been sailing the Caribbean Sea on the Black Pearl, a pirate in his own rights as he had been all his life, and here he was, living in a house, sleeping in a bed, having a wife, a business and… he ran a hand through his hair as he sat up, making a face. And a completely changed countenance. What had happened to him?

_Old age, that's what happened to ye. Time, mate, that happened. Ye're fifty, and more than half of yer life is already over. That's what happened. Something as profane as old age.  
_But still…. He had never thought that a man such as him, and he himself, even, would feel the need of settling down at one point. He had never thought of that, but now, having done it, he couldn't deny it felt good. It felt right, somehow.

Maybe things would become easier when he just admitted them to himself. He was still young enough to go to sea… but not for much longer. Five, six, maybe seven years. But he also knew he had never, ever, spared his body any kind of ordeal, be it fights, hunger, alcohol or whatever, and he doubted he would reach a blessed ripe old age. And maybe he even didn't want to. What good was a life when you could do nothing anymore but hobble around, staring at things forlorn to you while life would only happen to other people?

He shook his had with a grim smile. _Scared? Scared of dying?_ But he wasn't scared of dying, he thought. He was scared of loosing everything and remaining behind, left behind by those whom he loved with no chance of following them other than waiting for death to catch up with him. He was scared of ending up alone.

A sound from the nursery broke this ghastly, morbid trail of thoughts and he tilted his head. Elizabeth was singing to lil Josh, and he strained his ears to hear what she was singing.  
Smiling to himself as he made out the words, he pulled his shirt over his head.

„_Oh I will set my ship in order  
__I will sail her on the sea  
__I'll go far over yonder border  
__To see if my love minds on me_

_And he sailed east and he sailed west  
__He sailed far, far seeking land  
__Until he came to his true love's window  
__And he knocketh loud and would be in"_

Little Josh had calmed down a bit and was now industriously chewing on a button of Elizabeth's nightshirt, drooling like a leaking barrel. But at least he had stopped crying, she thought with a smile. He loved it when someone sang for him. Louise always had some irish ballads in store to make him sleep, and this song was one of the few Elizabeth could remember her scottish nurse had sung for her.

„_Oh who is that at my bedroom window?  
__Who knocks so loud and would be in?  
__Tis I, 'tis I, your ain true lover  
__And I am drenched unto my skin_

_So go and go and ask your father  
__And see if he'll let you marry me  
__If he says no, come back and tell me  
__And it's the last time I'll trouble thee"_

Josh rubbed his face at her shoulder with a sigh, made a few tiny mewling noises and yawned. Elizabeth smiled more to herself than at him as she sang, noticing, as she did so, a strange familiarity between whomever had made and sung this song for the first time to herself. In a way. Maybe in more than one way.

„_My father's in his chamber writing  
__Setting down his merchandise  
__And in his hand he holds a letter  
__And it speaks much in your dispraise_

_My mother's in her chamber sleeping  
__And words of love she will not hear  
__So you must go and court another  
__And whisper softly in her ear"_

She had asked herself so often in the bygone years, and especially often in the last few bygone weeks, why she had not been able to even consider thinking about it. Thinking about feeling something for someone else but William Turner. Feeling something for someone who was highly improper and not worth being thought about. In the opinion of society. Why, oh why had she, who had cared so little for society, cared so much in that specific case?

Well, she had been sure about her feelings for Will. But only because… maybe only because she had never allowed herself to even think about the possibility of someone else. It was maybe asked a bit much to then start with a pirate, of all men.

„_Then she arose, put on her clothing  
__It was to let her true love in  
__But e're she had the door unlockit  
__His ship was sailing on the main_

_Come back, come back, my ain dear Johnny  
__Come back, come back and marry me  
__How can I come back and marry you, love?  
__Our ship is sailing on the sea"_

No turning back. There had never been a way of turning back, had there? And here she herself hadn't even considered backing up on her own fear and pride and never asked him to come back. Had let him go and had, in turn, gone with someone else. But how futile was that…  
She kissed the top of Josh's head who had, finally, fallen asleep again, yet she finished the song in a soft and low voice. She would never forgive herself for the choices she had made, but even less for the choices she had refused herself.

„_The fish may fly, and the seas run dry  
__The rocks may melt down wi' the sun  
__And the working man may forget his labor  
__Before that my love returns again_

_She's turned herself right roun' about  
__She's flung herself into the sea  
__Farewell for aye, my own dear Johnny  
__Ye'll ne'er ha'e to come back to me"_

„I did come back, though", a soft voice spoke close behind her and she spun around to see Jack stand there, smiling affectionately down at her. She hadn't even heard him approach, but swallowed her tears and smiled.  
„And I do hope ye don't do anything alike, Lizzie." He picked up a tear with his forefinger and shook his head. „Will ye never forgive yerself, luv?"  
She mutely shook her head and Jack took another step forward with a sigh. „Neither do I, he whispered. „I guess the best we can do is forgive each other, aye?"  
Elizabeth slowly looked up at him, and he was still smiling. „Stop blaming yourself, Lizzie, my love. I'm as much to blame as you."  
„Keep telling yourself that", she whispered as she buried her face into his shoulder, and he closed his arms around her and the sleeping boy with a chuckle.

x x x x x x x x

Things were improving. Things were definitely improving, and with them, her mood. Imogen found herself actually smiling as she left her ship this time to head for the governor's residence. The last time she had been there he had been polite, yet friendly, and even if she was only there for a short while as there had been no matters to discuss, she remembered that she had left his office with a feeling of relief. For some reason, with him treating her respectful again, she had found back her self respect. The only thing, she reminded herself, was not to get that into her head.

„The governor is not in his office", the servant told her, looking down his long nose at Imogen. „I will enquire if he will see you."  
Imogen nodded and took the seat that the servant, with the barest hint of a flick of a hand, offered her, and looked at her hands, contemplating the possible course of conversation if the governor would indeed see her. Why was he not in his office, after all? Maybe it was Sunday. Being at sea always made her loose track of the days.

The soft steps of the approaching servant made her look up again. „The governor will see you now".  
She got up and followed him down a corridor, through a set of doors, up a flight of stairs and around a corner where a door stood ajar.  
„You better wait until summoned", the servant said and indicated to a set of chairs beside the doors before vanishing. Imogen slowly sat down, wondering where the music was coming from that she had been hearing since coming up the stairs, but suddenly she realised that it was coming from the room she was looking at. Music like she had never heard before, coming from an instrument she did not know.

With her curiosity getting the better of her, she cautiously slipped through the gap in the door.

Lucas van Huuiten was sitting on a chair, facing the window, the door through which Imogen had stepped at his left. He interrupted his play for no more than he needed to flick up his hand palm forward at her to stop whatever sound she could have made or greeting she could have spoken, then he flicked his fingers forward to point towards the chair at the table in the middle of the room. He didn't open his eyes for a second.

Stepping softly, aided by the thick carpet, Imogen made her way towards the chair without a sound, yet she felt reluctant to sit down when she turned around to watch him as he resumed his playing. He still hadn't opened his eyes, yet his face was nothing at all the usual mask of cool indifference, it seemed completely lost in his concentration on the music. She had never even thought his face capable of carrying that much emotion and this impression was enhanced by the fact that he wasn't wearing a wig which, for some reason, made him look strangely young and vulnerable.

Captured as if under a spell, Imogen slowly went down to the ground, sitting cross-legged before his chair, and watched him as he drew the bow in his right hand across the strings while the fingers of his left seemed to have a life of their own as they smoothly glided from one place to another, the transition between the places they halted to create a note almost lost to her eyes. But it was not this that made her suddenly feel forlorn and lost, made her feel like an intruder into a world where she had no place. It was the music itself.

It was sad and slow, yet elegant and subtle, gliding as smoothly as the flight of a bird, a melody as tangible as the ocean, and as unfathomable. It touched her innermost centre of being, try as she might to hide it, and in her sudden realisation that the part of the world this music came from was locked and forbidden to her, she closed her eyes to hide the tears that, without her being able to control them, suddenly burned in her eyes.

It took her a while, after the music had ended, to open her eyes again. And to her utter embarrassment, she found Lucas van Huuiten look at her with one raised eyebrow, his face slightly flushed and his wispy hair, so blonde it was more a pale shade of ivory, slightly askew. A tiny hint of amusement was playing around the corners of his mouth. „Captain?"  
She swallowed, unable to answer.  
„Is there a particular reason why you crouch at my feet like a dog?"  
Suddenly realising that her face was wet with tears, she wiped her hands hastily across her eyes and shrugged. „I wanted to listen, sir."  
"I don't see why sitting on a chair would have hindered you", he said, yet his voice did not hold any trace of mockery.  
„I did not want to move the chair. I wanted…" she broke off, embarrassed to the bones, and avoided his eyes. „I wanted to be a little closer to the music."

He was silent for a while, and Imogen wished for the ground to open up and swallow her. It did surprise her a little when the governor leaned forward with a sigh. „I feel flattered that my humble skills have made such an impression on you, Captain, and I admit I feel strangely touched myself to see you so… touched by my music."  
She looked up again. „It was beautiful", she said. „But that does it no justice… it's like saying the ocean is deep. Or wet."  
She angrily wiped her face again but looked at him as he chuckled softly.  
„I take that as a compliment", he said gently. „I strive for perfection… Yet it is so hard to achieve."

She thought of something to say to that, like that for her, it had been perfect, but what did she know? But not only was she unable to speak, she found herself also unable to look away. His eyes held her gaze, as if he was looking for something in them, and even if she felt she could not bear his stare, she felt so captured in his eyes that she couldn't break away.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, he released her, in that he blinked and leaned back in his chair. „What brings you here, then, Captain? Is it already a month gone?"  
Taking up the offered possibility of rallying herself, for she couldn't imagine him not being aware of the time frame that had passed, Imogen straightened up and nodded. „Indeed it is, sir. Do you have any particular orders?"  
„I don't, as of yet, and I do not expect any news before the next time we will meet, for it takes a certain amount of time for news to travel to Europe and back again."

Imogen nodded, and in one smooth movement, got back onto her feet again. „In that case, governor, I will not take any more of your precious time and be on my way again. I will call again in a month's time."  
He followed her movement with his eyes and nodded. „If you pull that cord beside the door, it will summon a servant to guide you outside, Captain."  
„Thank you, sir."  
"I bid you a good day, Captain Sparrow."  
„The same to you, sir", she said and left after pulling the mentioned cord.

He resumed his playing as soon as she closed the door behind her, and she stared out of a window into the gardens behind the house as she listened, trying to keep her face under control. When the servant showed up she wordlessly followed him, but the music kept following her, calling her, luring her like a siren's song, refusing to let go of her soul.

In his study, Lucas van Huuiten smiled to himself as he leaned over his cello and touched the strings with the bow again. She had surprised him yet again, and he wondered if he would ever truly be able to predict her. He certainly hadn't forseen it for her to react like that.  
_Not at all.  
_And he wondered if he would ever stop feeling that there was more to her than met the eye.  
_Probably not. _

And wasn't that a good thing, in a way? He opened his eyes and blinked. But even as he realised he had no answer as to why this was the case, he remembered her sitting cross-legged on the ground before him with closed eyes and a tear-stained face.

Maybe he should not receive her in his private study again.


	7. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

„Are you ready, Jack?"  
_No, I'm not_, he thought grimly as he stared at his reflection in the mirror while adjusting his wig_. I'll never bloody will be ready for these things, but here I am, dancing along to the tune I ordered.  
_The door opened behind him and he saw Elizabeth's face in the mirror, giving him a concerned look. He smiled brightly at her and turned around, reached for his cane and tucked it firmly under his arm. „As ready as can be, luv."  
She slowly narrowed her eyes a bit but said nothing. She was fully aware of his contempt for these social occasions and receptions, she herself shared these feelings. But to remain unquestioned, at least officially, was important to both of them. As to what and how much they were the object of people's gossip they neither knew nor wanted to know.

„After you, your highness", Jack murmured, bowing deeply as he opened the door of the carriage for her and she curtsied elegantly before shaking her head with rolling eyes. Jack got in after her with a lopsided grin on his face. „What? Ye're still pirate king. Technically."  
"Queen, more or less, I gather."  
„Maybe", he said and winked. „And with me having married ye, does that make me pirate king?"  
„I don't know." Elizabeth leaned forward a little and smiled. „Does it matter? We both left piracy behind and turned to proper society."

"Proper for whom?" Jack crossed his arms with a wry grin. „I can't speak for me, but I can say you've got definitely more practise than me, luv."  
Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow. „And you certainly have more practise in being a pirate."  
"Doubtless." He leaned forward with a conspirative grin. „And I doubt that you'd have stood yer ground in a belching contest, anyway, no matter how much practise…"  
"Jack!"  
„That'd be me name", he smirked. „And I don't take back me words. I doubt it."  
"So do I", Elizabeth said decidedly.  
„Would have been interesting to try it out. Maybe we can catch up on that…"  
„Jonathan Jacob McGuyre!" She crossed her arms. „I choose not to believe my ears."  
„It'd be your ears, not mine, luv." He winked again, but she glared unmovingly ahead.

Jack watched her for a while, then sighed. „Oh come on, Lizzie. Ye could take a jest with a bit more grace than that."  
She stared at him, then her face twitched, and suddenly she hid her mouth behind a hand and snorted. Jack watched this, allowed himself a grin, and joined her as she finally broke out laughing. „Jack, you're absolutely impossible", she snorted and he grinned broadly. „Impossible, luv, is not part of my vocabulary."

Elizabeth shook her head with a grin, and they kept on smiling at each other throughout the trip through the city towards the residence of Gentleman Alan James Watkinson who held a reception in honour of his five and fortieth birthday.

Watkinson greeted them heartily, kissed Elizabeth's hand and shook Jack's firmly as he showed them inside and had a servant bring some sherry. Catching up with a few people, chatting away some time in meaningless pleasantries, they bided their time until dinner, where things seriously worsened. Jack was caught between two gentlemen he hardly knew but who were both eager to fill him in with stories of their own seafaring years, and the smiling presence of Elizabeth opposite him did nothing to ease his suffering, being as she was caught up between aforementioned gentlemen's wives. He recognised that strained grin and knew she was forcing herself not to scream at the two nattering hags to shut the bloody hell up.

It was a relief as the desserts were finally cleared up and the congregation dispersed a bit throughout the house and garden. This enabled Jack and Elizabeth to catch a few undisturbed moments outside under a large yew tree, both breathing in the momentary silence while relaxing their strained facial muscles.

Elizabeth slowly leaned her head against Jack's shoulder. „Jack, how can you possibly suffer all that with a straight face? I find it hard enough, and here I'm used to it, having done it for twenty and more years. But you?"  
He smiled down at her. „I can do whatever I must, Lizzie, but don't mistake me as to that I might be enjoying meself."  
„I'd rather be in a dirty tavern somewhere in Tortuga, as unbelievable as that sounds."  
He chuckled. „And no doubt the belching contest has become a rather appealing possibility of entertainment all of a sudden."  
She punched his shoulder half-heartedly with her fist. „Jack, you're absolutely insufferable sometimes." Then she looked up, a grin on her face. „Who won?"

He blinked, then grinned in return. „Well, I have to admit that Master Gibbs, bless his heart, was capable of quite impressive blows in that department. You'd honestly think he'd filled up his whole staunch and hearty form with air from top to toe."  
Elizabeth hid a giggle behind her hand.  
"And believe it or not, the other person usually to win was that scarecrow of a man, Ragetti. I can't say we ever found out from whence he took that much pressure, for I swear, one of his blows easily lasted five seconds or more, and no mistake."

He bit down his own laughter as Elizabeth buried her face into his shoulder. „And believe me, he turned severely cross-eyed when doing that, which in itself is quite an achievement what with him having only one eye and that."  
Her laughter escaped her in muffled groans into the cloth of his waistcoat. Grinning, he leaned a little closer. „And the worst part, or best, depending on how you looked at it, was…"  
„Captain McGuyre?"  
Jack straightened up with a sigh and saw Watkinson approach him. „Ah, there you are, Captain. I hope I do not intrude." He waggled his eyebrows and Jack flashed him a friendly grin. „Not at all, Mr Watkinson. What ails you?"

Watkinson bowed shortly as he smiled at Elizabeth. „I was wondering, madam, if I could abduct your husband for an hour or two, for a few of us fancied a round of cards but we still lack the fourth man."  
Jack shot her a glance.  
„Oh, you go ahead, John, and amuse yourself. I find someone to talk to in the meantime."

Jack leaned over her and murmured into her ear: „It is not as if I wouldn't amuse me right now, my dear." Yet as he did so, he did not speak too softly as not to enable Watkinson to actually hear the words he spoke. Elizabeth unfolded her fan with a quick and elegant flick of her hand that bespoke of years of practise, and only he could see in her eyes that she hid her grin behind said fan. He winked and straightened up again.

"I am a rotten looser, I have to admit that beforehand", he said jovially to Watkinson who chuckled. „Aren't we all", he said. „You are only the first to actually admit it, Captain."  
Jack laughed politely as he followed him inside and Elizabeth watched him go with a sigh.

Well, she shouldn't be any better off than he, so she'd better go and find some ladies to have another sherry and a gossip. Plastering her official grin firmly on her face, she took a deep breath and left the shelter of the dark twigs around her.

x x x x x x x x

„I must say I am impressed with your luck so far, Captain", Watkinson said as he counted the brass coins they used to play for. „No wonder you said you are a rotten looser, you seem never have had the need to actually get used to it."  
Jack waved this aside. „I am sure the tides will turn again, Mr Watkinson", he said. „I have lost a fair share of games in my life, rest assured of that." He did not fail to notice that Henry O'Brien, sitting opposite him, had narrowed his eyes more and more during the last hour whenever he looked at Jack.

„I'd dare say", he said now. „What say you, Captain, if we make this a bit more sportive and exchange the brass coins so generously provided by our friend Watkinson with real ones?"  
Jack slowly cocked an eyebrow. „One or two rounds, Mr O'Brien, and no more. I do not carry much on my own person right now and I do not particularly fancy writing up gambling debts like a common sailor in a cheap tavern taps up his drinks."  
O'Brien narrowed his eyes. „As you say", he said. „Anyone else?"  
The other two gentlemen declined politely and O'Brien looked back at Jack. „Seems it is only the two of us are in for a little more exciting game. What about a round of Four-by-Five?"  
Jack gestured at him to deal and O'Brien shuffled the cards and dealt.

Staring at his cards, Jack reached with his other hand for his belt and dropped his little moneybag on the table. „Your stake?"  
With a strangely evil smile and lowered brows O'Brien reached into his own pocket and, slowly and decisively, counted twenty-five doubloons out onto the table. The other two men inhaled sharply.  
Jack slowly placed his cards face down onto the table. „You shame me into declining, Mr O'Brien. I do not carry that much with me around, nor do I see the reason to when going to visits an acquaintance's house for a round of drinks."  
„I do apologise. I guess I got a bit carried away there." With a narrow smile, O'Brien counted fifteen doubloons back into his pocket, and with a twitch of his moustache, Jack counted ten doubloons out of his own bag and dropped them next to his. "Your turn, Mr O'Brien."  
„I declare trump", O'Brien said. „Bells is trump."  
„As you say."

The other two gentlemen silently watched them slowly place down their cards.

„Last trick", O'Brien said and placed an ace of bells on the table. Jack lowered his jack of spades and shrugged. „All yours for the taking, Mr O'Brien."  
O'Brien placed his hands on the doubloons and moved them towards him, then looked at Jack again. "Another round, Captain?"  
"One, if you insist. Otherwise I will have to borrow my stake and I intend to avoid such a course of action."  
„You deal, then." O'Brien slowly crossed his arms.

Jack nodded and shuffled the cards. He was seriously tempted to cheat on the bloody bugger, but something in the man's eyes made him stop. He had the nagging feeling that he was actually waiting for him to do something like it, so the wiser course of action might be to just loose again and forget about the money. He didn't like one bit the way O'Brien looked at him.  
Your stake, Captain."  
Jack looked into his bag and counted out another ten doubloons. „Will that suffice?"  
"It will." O'Brien smiled and counted his own stake. „I count in your ten, and another ten of mine." He gave Jack a long look under narrowed brows and Jack glared back, keeping his face tightly locked. Why did he insist on pressing him into staking money he didn't have? Was he really waiting for him to cheat, after all?"  
"This looks promising, Captain", Watkinson said. „I will back you up. Show the young man there something about the world."

_Pride comes before the fall,_ Jack thought as he looked at O'Brien again. _Hope I'll manage that, friend Watkinson_. Indeed, he was probably twenty years his junior, but the last time Jack had thought that about his opponent, he had almost fallen headlong into a pit and he did not intend to make the same mistake twice. If you say so", he said slowly to Watkinson and looked at his cards. „I declare trump. Heart is trump."

By now, a few other gentlemen and even a few ladies had gotten wind of the ongoings in the green salon and had joined them. The silent crowd of watchers seemed to make O'Brien slightly nervous, but Jack's nerves were used to deal with far more than a few interested but silent and unthreatening onlookers. Your turn, Mr O'Brien."

Each left with one card after a while, they both had made the same amount of tricks.  
_Last trick decides,_ Jack thought, looking at his own card. _As so often in life. _„Your turn, Mr O'Brien."  
„King of spades, Captain McGuyre." O'Brien placed his card on the table and gave Jack a look of expectation. Jack looked at his card again, keeping his face, and flicked a glance at the door where three more ladies had just entered, Elizabeth one of them.  
„Ah, my talisman", he said with a quick smile for Elizabeth. „Your timing is unpreceededly priceless, my dear", he continued and placed his card on O'Brien's. „Queen of hearts, Mr O'Brien."

Paling slightly, O'Brien leaned back and gritted his teeth as Jack slowly pocketed the thirty doubloons. And he hadn't even cheated! Yet his smile died when he saw O'Brien lean forward again. „Call me a bad looser, Captain McGuyre, but what, precisely, is it you have hidden in those frilly sleeves of yours?"  
Jack slowly raised one eyebrow. „Do you accuse me of cheatery, Mr O'Brien?"  
O'Brien leaned forward. "I do wonder, Mr McGuyre", he said, his voice low and threatening. „Since you have been so apt at cheating everyone else here in far more serious matters than a game of cards, Captain."


	8. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

„Please elaborate", Jack said and crossed his arms. Behind him, he could hear several people start to whisper.  
„Gladly", O'Brien said. „I will gladly explain, here and now for everyone who cares to hear, that when I was last in Barbados, no one ever had heard the name of a Captain McGuyre there." He leaned back again, a slight and all too smug grin on his face.  
„Yes?", Jack said politely.  
„Isn't it strange, that since you hail from Barbados, no one there has ever heard of your name?"

„Mr O'Brien", Jack said in a cool voice. „I hate to interrupt your righteous course of wrath directed at my person, but I have to make a minor, yet significant correction to your elaborations." He spread his hands flat out on the table. „I do not hail from Barbados. I hail from Northumbria, and I had my ship registered in that city for the simple reason that I liked that place to make my home harbour. I am a humble seaman, Mr O'Brien, who had just in his later years had the luck that blessed him with enough wealth to enable him to court the woman he loves. That being the reason for me settling down in Port Royal." He leaned back and crossed his arms.

„Ah, your ship", O'Brien said. „The Jade Star of Barbados."  
"I trust you have enquired with the harbour authorities there? They would have the ship enlisted there, with me as her captain."  
O'Brien didn't reply and clenched his jaws.  
„Ah, I see you haven't. Well, I intend to forgive you on that…  
"I did not question the authorities", O'Brien interrupted him. „I found out, however, that the Jade Star, if that really is her name, was rather less a merchantman with her weaponry and sails than a pirate vessel. To the observing eyes of a few old seamen."

Jack narrowed his eyes. „Old observing seamen…", he said, „…will tell you that the moon is square and made of french cheese if they think that is what you want to hear of them. Can I enquire as to why you place so much weight on the words of a couple of old men sitting in a harbour?"  
„Oh, I do not place anything anywhere yet, Captain McGuyre, if that is your name…"  
"Will you please explain yourself", Jack snarled. „I do not care much for being insulted several times in a row."

„Very well", O'Brien snapped back. „Your ship was a pirate ship before she was redone in the docks of Tortuga. You are a pirate, a traitor, a viper at the bosom of this noble city, who has come here in disguise, charming the womenfolk and taking advantage of a lonely widow to secure his hold in society! However, try not to think your charming countenance fools me!"  
With these words, he wrenched the wig of Jack's head, but whatever he had hoped this would achieve, it only achieved that the two gentlemen who had shared their table simultaneously jumped up from the chairs to grab hold of each his arms.  
„O'Brien, for god's sake, come to your senses!" Watkinson snarled, yet O'Brien wrenched his arms free and pointed an accusing finger at Jack, who slowly ran a hand through his hair to smooth it back.  
„You don't fool me! Not with the trimmed hair and the fine lace! You have the pirate brand hidden on your body somewhere!"

Jack rested his hands on the table, flicking back the frills of lace that hid his wrists. All that showed was the scarred tissue of the rope burn and he narrowed his eyes. „Do I need to undress myself to satisfy your paranoid notions, Mr O'Brien? For if I did, you would find nothing but the marks a long life at sea, on ships of war and of trade, has left on me."  
„And a cut out pirate brand, for sure!", O'Brien snapped back. „How smug you must feel, sitting here in the ready-made nest by that poor woman who was gullible enough to be beguiled by your fake gentlemanly countenance!  
„Mr O'Brien!" Jack inhaled deeply through his nose, summoning his racing heart and flattering nerves into fury rather than fear. „It is quite enough that you insult me, but to have you insult my wife tops the stiffest yarn to nothing! I will have compensation for that, and an apology to my lady!"  
„As likely you will have a…"  
„Henry!" Watkinson yelled. „Come to your senses, begod! You've done enough damage already as it is!"

Elizabeth choose this point to step into this conversation, and her own racing heart and weak knees were, while she knew them to originate in her fear, clear to everyone else signs of her utter distress. „Jonathan, please, do calm down. He seems not to know what he says." She laid a hand on Jack's shoulder and looked at Henry O'Brien, still trapped between Watkinson and Barristone. „I have known the captain for more than twenty years, for he was a friend of my late former husband. Do you doubt my words as well? "

„O'Brien, I suggest you think well about your answer", Watkinson said in a low voice and O'Brien snorted through his nose and suddenly, dropped his aggressive posture, shaking his head. „I see you have already everyone on your side, so I am too late already in preventing any damage you could do. Or already have done."  
„You seem not to know when to give up", Jack said slowly. „You know, winners never quit, and quitters never win, but those who never quit AND never win are idiots, O'Brien."

A few moments of silence followed this last statement, but before O'Brien, whose face had turned bright red with fury at Jack's last words, could snap anything in reply, Watkinson pulled at his arm again to make him stop.

„Captain, you will have reparation", Barristone said, silencing O'Brien with the sombre tone of his voice.. „An affair such as this is best cleaned out good and proper. Is it not, Mr O'Brien?"  
O'Brien shook the arms of the two men beside him off and smoothed down his shirt. „Good and proper, then. As it shall be, Mr Barristone. I will meet you at a time and location of your choice, Captain McGuyre, and I look very much forward to running you through."  
Jack took a small step back, and very slowly and pointedly, lowered his eyes to look down at himself, and equally slowly looked up at O'Brien again who had, by then, paled a little.  
"Challenging a crippled man to a swordfight? What a noble soul you are." Jack slowly crossed his arms as he watched with a satisfied inner grin O'Brien's mask of indifference fall apart. „Please allow me, as the insulted party in this matter, to at least choose the weapons, as is technically my right, if I remember it rightly. Or is it not?" When O'Brien failed to answer, Jack took another step back. „I choose the pistol, Mr O'Brien."

„I have a set here", Watkinson said gravely. „And if you wish so, you can have them and settle this sorry affair right here and now."  
„Here and now", Jack gave back. „Which is precisely the time and location that is convenient to me. Are any of the gentlemen here present willing to be my fuglemen?"  
„No, Jonathan, please…" Elizabeth gripped his arm and gave him a desperate stare. „Please don't do anything…"  
"My dearest Elizabeth", he gave back and placed his hand over hers. „I do not have a choice. It is not only my own but your precious honour that I have to defend here. Have faith in me. So far, I have not lost a single duel of pistols in my life."  
„This is not funny", Elizabeth whispered, although two of three of the gentlemen obviously tried to hide a snigger.  
„No, it is not", he said and took her hand to kiss it. „I ask you nonetheless to have faith in me. I will see you in a bit, I promise, but I can not let some insufferable whelp defile you in any however insubstantial way, my love."

„No…", Elizabeth tried again, but by now, Watkinson had re-emerged, equipped with a sombre and large wooden box. She could only helplessly watch as, after much discussion, it was decided that a gentleman called Greenwood and Barristone would be Jack's fuglemen while, after a bit of to and fro, two other declared for O'Brien. The whole congregation, the two duellists, their fuglemen and Watkinson as the overseer, disappeared silently outside and the crowd slowly dispersed again, partly outside to watch, but mostly to hide in some corners to discuss _the scandal!_

_God, I don't care about any kind of scandal as long as I get him back._ Elizabeth fell into an armchair and hid her face in her hands, feeling close to fainting. It didn't make a difference, really, that Watkinson's wife and her two daughters started fussing about her, brought her a footstool to rest her legs and watered brandy for her nerves. Locking her hands around the glass without drinking, she stared at the liquid and waited for the blow. _Please_, she prayed. _Please don't let it be over so soon. I don't want to be widowed again! Oh Jack, please… _

It seemed to her that hours passed in the foreboding silence, although it was likely no more than twenty minutes in which Elizabeth crouched in her armchair, refusing to believe that this had actually happened, and was still happening. That she was sitting here, waiting for a shot, and waiting for the news that she was a widow. Again.  
Yet even expecting it, she literally jumped out of her chair as outside two shots fell almost simultaneously. Downing the contents of her glass in one go, she stared bleakly ahead as into the heavy silence that followed, footsteps slowly approached the door again down the gravelled path a few minutes later. _Oh god, please, let it be Jack, let it be Jack… _

Someone cleared their throat cautiously, as if not to frighten her with a sudden approach, and she could almost hear Watkinson's voice, his face carefully arranged in mournful wrinkles, telling her how sorry he was… _how sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…_

Elizabeth dared not to look up, but sheer desperation made her do so, after all.

„I'm back", Jack said with an apologetic smile and with a sob, Elizabeth dropped her glass and threw herself against his chest, holding on to him with all her strength. Jack slowly closed his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. „It's all right, Lizzie. It's over. It's all right."  
„Are you hurt?", she whispered into his shoulder and he shook his head.  
„No, I'm not. He was a lousy shot, O'Brien was."  
"No match for you, then", she said, digging her fingers harder into his back.  
"As if anyone could be a match for me, Lizzie", he whispered, a smile audible in his voice, and Elizabeth sobbed again, this time in relief.

„Captain McGuyre", Watkinson said after clearing his throat, having entered the room behind him. „I will have your carriage readied, for I trust you would like to bring your lady home."  
"Indeed I would, and my heartfelt thanks, Mr Watkinson", Jack said. „And I am deeply sorry for…"  
"Do not trouble your heart, Captain", Watkinson interrupted him. „ You are not to blame, and the one who should do the apologizing is beyond that now and will only have to answer to his maker now."  
„Still, that is no way to celebrate a birthday…" Jack began, looking up at him.  
Watkinson shrugged with a wry grin. „Well, that may be true. But what is most certainly true is that this particular day won't be as easily forgotten as all the ones before it."  
„True enough." Jack had to grin and Watkinson, smiling slightly in return, disappeared.

„God, I only hope Imogen will have less trouble leaving her pirate past behind her", Jack whispered into Elizabeth's hair after Watkinson had left them.  
"You'd better touch some wood right now", she gave back and Jack looked around.  
„No wood within reach other than me leg", he gave back. „And even though I'm not that superstitious, I am superstitious enough not to do something that stupid. She'll be fine."  
"Your word in god's ear", Elizabeth said as she looked at him, and he had to admit that his grin felt a bit artificial right now, even to himself.

x x x x x x x x

„Land ho! South!"  
Imogen looked up and across the railing, but she, of course, being down on deck, could see nothing yet. But still, knowing they were finally nearing Curacao was a major relief.  
She looked across the deck again. „Thank god for that…"  
Their water supplies were reaching zero, and it was about bloody time they would finally reach a safe harbour. Neither she herself nor any man of the crew had been able to drink a fill for days now, they had to stretch the water more and more and since two days, neither of them had more than two cups full a day. The rum had been gone days before that.

They had run into a storm somewhere north of Margarita, and it was only due to the fact that the main wind direction in the Spanish Main was westwards that they had been able to make the distance after that at all. A freak wave had hit them amidst all the thunder and wind, and the Albatross had lost her main mast to it. Not only that, but they had also lost three of their crew, two had been washed overboard by the wave itself while the third man had been slain by the falling mast. And thus, and only due to the helpful winds, it had taken them weeks longer than anticipated to get back to Curacao.

By now, Imogen would have missed the second scheduled meeting with the governor, but it just wasn't her fault, and she rather hoped he would prove to be understanding. She couldn't possibly have come any faster without the main mast. She knew he wouldn't hold it against her, but she couldn't help feeling incompetent by missing out the meeting twice, no matter whose fault it was.  
Yet still, she didn't loose any more time as they finally had pulled into the harbour of Wilhelmstad and docked at the pier. The sun was beginning to set, but there was still enough daylight for her to swiftly make her way towards the governor's residence, hoping he would not be too upset.

Impatiently, she treaded from one foot to another as she waited outside the governor's office until finally, the servant came back and let her in. She was in for a surprise, though. At the desk sat a man whose face she had never seen before.

He watched her come in, then hastily got up and narrowed his eyes.

„You are not Captain Sparrow", he said slowly and Imogen stared at him, completely at a loss, and felt her blood run cold as behind her, she heard several soldiers come in who slowly and silently flanked her.


	9. Chapter 7

Author's note: The song Imogen sings is "The trees they grow high", an old English traditional. I first heard it from Yann a Carnac who taught me to sing it. I do not know who else has ever recorded a version of it.

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**Chapter 7**

It took Imogen almost a minute to come back to her senses and get her brain into motion again, the time, in fact, it took the guards to flank her closely.

"Excuse me", she began, still feeling not quite sure this was really happening. "But who are you?"  
"I am proxy to governor van Huuiten who has been called to attend a conference in New Amsterdam", he said in clear yet accentuated English. "But now, it is me who asks the questions here. And I want to know you are."  
"I am Captain Sparrow", she said. "The second, if you wish. Junior, for all I care. Captain Imogen Sparrow."  
He narrowed his eyes. "Captain Sparrow Junior?" he snorted softly and shook his head. "A woman captaining a ship? Has the world heard of such an atrocity yet? What kind of man would take orders from such as you?" He folded his hands behind his back as if to allow his mind to bend around a notion like this.

"So", he finally went on, stretching out his chin. "You are not the Captain Sparrow I was hoping to see, but then I heard he was dead. Again. I wonder if it is the truth, this time?" He cocked an eyebrow and Imogen cast two sideways glances at the soldiers flanking her.  
"It is said his ship was seen heading north months ago. But it was never seen coming back. It looks like he got lost in the North Atlantic."  
The governor's proxy snorted. "And here are you, his offspring, taking over the pirating business from him? How come that you walk in here, as bold as brass, demanding to see the governor? What kind of trickery is that?"

Imogen took a deep breath. She knew she was in trouble, and she knew she had to keep very much on her toes to avoid anything nasty happening even if the worst that could happen was that he had her arrested until the governor came back.  
But then… he could simply have her hanged. Or shot, which, at the end of the day, wouldn't make a difference.  
"I have a letter of marque", she said slowly and the man opposite her lifted his brows.  
"A letter of marque? You?"  
Imogen nodded. "Yes, sir, a letter of marque. It is on my ship, in my cabin, locked in the desk. And I know governor van Huuiten locked a countersigned copy away in his desk, but although I did watch him do it, I do not know where exactly."

"I will believe that when I see it, and not a moment earlier", the proxy said and gestured at the guards. "I will do away with you in the meantime, like the pirate you are. Just be glad that the governor has not authorized me to sign a death warrant, or I would deal with you good and proper, once and for all. As if there was not enough scum floating on the Caribbean Sea, to have them walk in this city is a disgrace. Take her away."  
"No! Governor, I…"  
"I will enquire into the matter of the letter of marque", he said. "Meanwhile, you will enjoy this proud city's hospitality for a while." With another gesture from him, the two guards grabbed one of Imogen's arms each and dragged her away, but after a few steps, she caught herself and walked the way on her own two feet.

There was no need to enrage anyone any further, and since it sounded as if she wasn't going to be executed outright, all was left now was to sit tight until van Huuiten would come back. For some reason, she had the feeling that the proxy's enquiries into the whereabouts of the letter of marque would lead to nothing.

x x x x x x x x

For the first two weeks, Imogen had sat tight and had been rather confident that she would get out of there unharmed.

Somewhen during the third week, however, a rather bleak feeling of hopelessness overcame her, and she found herself crouching in a corner, leaning against the wall and staring at her chains. She had shackles around her wrists with a chain in between that was about a foot long, and her ankles were chained likewise. A ring around the chain that bound her ankles was connected to a chain that was fastened to the wall.

Staring at the chains, Imogen could feel their weight drag her down, in more than just the physical way with their sheer weight.

She let her head fall back against the wall and tried to ignore the thirst. The guard was not very generous with the water, and she had been a bit parched even before she had been dropped off in this dark and stinking hole.  
If only she could think of something else…

Maybe a song. Some random verses of songs popped into her mind, and while she knew they made a song, she couldn't quite place them in the correct order. She did not quite know how to begin, but the words were suddenly there.

_"The trees they grow high  
__The leaves they do grow green  
__Many is the time my true love I have seen  
__Many an hour I've watched him all alone  
__He's young, but he's daily growing"_

Closing her eyes as the words flew back to her, one by one, she realised that as soon as she started the next verse, and tears were burning in her throat. It made her singing sound a little hoarse and cracked.

_"Father, dear father  
__You've done me great wrong  
__You have married me to a boy who is to young  
__I'm twice twelve and he is but fourteen  
__He's young, but he's daily growing"_

The words of the next verse eluded her and she rubbed her eyes with her fists, the heavy clinking of the chain between her wrists the only sound for a minute or two. As the words fell back into place, she closed her eyes but didn't lift her head anymore. Who was there to listen but herself, anyway?

_"Daughter, dear daughter  
__I've done you no wrong  
__I have married you to a great lord's son  
__He'll be a man for you when I'm dead and gone  
__He's young, but he's daily growing"_

There was more to it than this, but try as she might, she couldn't remember enough of the bits she knew were missing. She knew the girl had watched her love play with other boys, and she had gone into the hayfield with him. And after that…

_"At the age of fourteen  
__He was a married man  
__At the age of fifteen the father of a son  
__At the age of sixteen his grave it was green  
__Has gone to be wasted in battle"_

After the playing, all had ended up in death. Right. It all ended in death. Sooner or later. And love was an illusion, for love, too, ended up in death. There was no happy ending for any love story, ever, because it always ended with one loosing the other, even if only from ripe old age. It didn't make a difference if the love died after a month, a year, or a lifetime. It didn't matter. The only thing ever and always true was death.

_"I'll buy my love some linen  
__And I will make a shroud  
__With every stitch I put in it, the tears they will flow down  
__With every stitch I put in it, oh how the tears will flow  
__Cruel fate has put an end to his growing"_

And if she would be hanged, after all? If she was a convicted pirate, who needed a official death warrant to hang her? With a bit of luck, she wouldn't have to smoulder here any longer… maybe the governor would be back soon and set her free. She opened her eyes and slowly lifted her head, ignoring the burning tears.  
But what if the governor wouldn't set her free? What if she had served her full? What if she wasn't needed anymore, just like Morgan had said might happen? Well, hopefully she would only hang. And death would finally put an end to all things… and to her sorry striving for existence.

_"At the age of fourteen  
__He was a married man  
__At the age of fifteen the father of a son  
__At the age of sixteen his grave it was green  
__And death has put an end to his growing"_

And the lies to her son wouldn't be lies any more. She silently smiled to herself.

x x x x x x x x

She was still smiling as two hours later, two guards came to unchain her from the wall and remove the shackles from her feet. Her hands were not unchained, however, which probably meant she was now on her last way with no turning back.  
Offering no resistance and following the guards outside, blinking against the glaring sun, she tried to keep the last bit of fear in her heart at bay that still lingered there and let her cling to her life, as forlorn as it was right now.

To her surprise, however, she was not led to the gallows but chained from her wrists between two wooden posts in the middle of the back courtyard of the jail. And in front of her, watching her in contempt, was the proxy to the governor, next to a wooden table covered with a few documents.

"Ah, the Captain Sparrow who claimed to serve the Dutch flag, is it not", he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "Let me inform you that neither did I find the mentioned document in your cabin on your ship nor in the governor's desk. Do you have anything to say?"  
Imogen shook her head. "All I can say is that if it isn't in my desk in my cabin, then someone has taken away with it. And since you don't seem overly inclined to believe me in the first place, I don't know what else to tell you. What is it you want to hear?"

He looked at some papers on his table. "I do have the account here of one Captain Jan-Peter Uettersen who claims you have saved him and his ship from a pirate once. Is that true?"  
"Yes." What else could she say? He quite obviously didn't _want_ to believe her.  
"He also said you seemed familiar with the pirate captain."  
He narrowed his eyes and Imogen sighed.  
"I have met him in Tortuga. Years ago. Yes, I was a pirate, but not so any more! I am a privateer in service of the governor of Curacao and somewhere is a document to prove this!"  
"And why should I believe you, since I so shamefully failed to find the mentioned document?"

"I came and went quite a lot of times into the governor's office to receive orders, and I…"  
"You also were received in his private study, last time you were here. How can some creature as homely as you seduce someone as him so thoroughly that he doesn't even make any effort to hide this scandalous affair any more?"  
"Affair??"  
"I will have the truth of you, you beguiling witch, and I will have it now. Ten."

_Ten?_ "No…" He wasn't going to have her flogged… was he? A man stepped behind her and ripped her shirt apart.  
He was. Imogen swallowed and closed her eyes, but it took a while longer than anticipated for the whip to hit her. She managed to suppress a scream as the whip connected with her flesh in a loud crack. But after that, it got worse.

She had never been flogged, and although her father had told her once how it felt, there was no imagining things any more ghastly than reality. It was a pain she had no words for, even experiencing it. And the executioner who flogged her seemed to be a cruel man enjoying and taking pride in his work. He did not strike down in a particular rhythm, he waited, sometimes only a few seconds, sometimes almost a minute, and it made her unable to predict when the next impact would come and thus unable to prepare herself for the pain.

After seven lashes, he had got her so far that she couldn't help but scream every time the whip hit her. She tried not to, but even a stifled scream was a scream, and she hated herself for it. But then he got to ten and stepped back, and the governor's proxy took a few steps toward her.

"I assume that is enough to make you stop feeling smug. What made you able to enter the governor's residence in broad daylight with everyone aware?"  
Imogen licked her swollen lips and tasted blood. She had bitten on then to refrain herself from screaming, to no avail.  
"I can't tell you anything else", she croaked. "I have a letter of marque."  
The proxy sighed. "How much does it take to break you?", he asked her in a cold voice. "I thought ten lashes were quite sufficient for a woman, but I seem to have been mistaken. Another ten."

She almost did it. Almost. She almost had screamed no, and almost had begged for mercy. She saw in his eyes that he waited for that, how could any sane man be so cruel? Or was it only that he hated pirates with a passion that was close to obsession? He might have lost quite a lot to pirates earlier in his life, but… no, not everyone was a man who did not stray an inch away from the path of propriety and correctness. Or who let his feelings not get in the way of a correct or fair judgement.

For three more lashes, she was able to force herself to remain silent; the next two forced a strained groan out between her lips. The five that followed were pure agony, as by now, the marks on her back began to cross each other and wherever they did, she could feel her flesh burst. Blood was trickling down her back and her vision began to dwindle, greying out at the edges. Red specks wavered in her vision, and only distantly did she heard herself scream in agony. Her legs were not carrying her anymore, and her arms burned like fire as well, as her full weight hung at her wrists and shoulders from the chains that bound her.

"I hope you now realise that the letter of marque is a lie and going to be treated as such. And you can either admit piracy or plain seduction. You can be flogged to death or hang from your neck, and I am sure that once you have been properly dealt with, the governor will be grateful to me for taking care of this most embarrassing problem. We will have a confession."  
His face hovered into her view. "I am waiting."

Imogen stared at him, determined not to break, determined not to beg for mercy. With her last strength, she forced a grin onto her lips. "Pirate."  
The proxy leaned back and gestured at the executioner behind her. "Ah, a confession, finally. We will note that down. Five more, and if she's still alive by then, hang her."

As the whip hit her already torn and shattered flesh the next time, she realised she was too spent to scream by now, only a hoarse sob escaped her lips. Tiny blue and silver dots flared up before her eyes every time the whip hit her, and her vision dimmed even more with the pain in her back becoming a low and distant throbbing.

She was heaved onto her feet again by two men, soldiers, probably, and forced herself to remain strong, not to wail, and not to break down and beg for mercy. She would receive none and only loose what dignity was left to her. Fighting to remain upright as the noose was dropped around her neck, she stared straight ahead and, even if she had no voice anymore and no breath to spare, her lips formed the words.

_Hoist the colours high…_

A shame her father would never know that in the end, at least, she had died as a pirate.

_Never shall we die…_

Maybe if she concentrated on the pain in her back, the rest would pass by unnoticed. She could almost hear it, the pain, throbbing with her heartbeat, dull yet omnipresent, a throbbing, like…  
Hoof beats. She would have smiled had she had any strength left. It sounded like a horse.  
It _was_ a horse. Opening her eyes a crack, she realised she could not only hear but also see the white charger that now stormed at full speed into the courtyard, the rider jumping out of the saddle even before he had halted his steed.

"_Wacht!_", the man roared and stomped towards the table. "_Wat ben je daar in godsnaam aan het doen?_"(1)

She watched him dismount and scream something in a language she couldn't understand, then he slammed something small onto the table before the suddenly very pale proxy.

She couldn't understand any more words, but suddenly, the throbbing began to fade. She toppled to her knees after all, unable to remain upright any longer, yet there was still the noose and she gagged, but there was no way she could possibly get onto her feet again.

And suddenly the pressure was gone and she gasped for air.

The rider stood before her, sabre still brandished, yet only when he leaned close enough to put a hand under her chin to lift her head did she recognise him with her fading senses, the cut-off noose still hanging around her neck like a ghastly collar.  
"Governor", she croaked, hoarse from screaming and close to fainting. "The shining saviour on a white steed…"  
He sighed and wrinkled his brow. "I am obviously and shamefully a bit behind schedule, Captain", he said. "I seem to have come too late."

She tried to smile at him, but his face blurred and then her vision went black. Dimly she could hear voices and someone shouting, but after a few seconds, something hard hit her cheek and those sounds faded away as well.

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(1) Hold it! What in the name of god are you doing?


	10. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"I do thank you for the haste you made, Doctor de Beer", van Huuiten said as he led the doctor down the corridor to the room where he had his servants put Imogen.  
"My duty often involves utmost haste, Governor", de Beer replied. "I tend not to stake my meal against a person's life."  
"I thank you nonetheless, for this is of utmost importance."  
De Beer cocked one eyebrow and van Huuiten smiled wryly. "I suspect that you do wonder as to why I put such a value on the captain as to have her treated in my own house, doctor."  
"Not that is is my business, Governor, but I do indeed."

Van Huuiten slowed down his pace and stopped in front of a door. "The matter is quite simple", he said as he opened the door. "It is true that the captain is not of high a value as a trained naval officer. And it is true that as a simple privateer, she is replaceable. Yet as a… man in my service, she should be entitled to go on about her duty without being threatened for it."  
De Beer gave him a questioning look.  
"Coming to harm while doing her duty does not qualify, doctor", van Huuiten said smoothly. "Coming to harm due to an unlucky case of mistaken identity, or worse, a case of intentionally mistaken identity, does raise my concern. Obviously, the captain has enemies who are out to kill her, and in the momentary state the captain is in, it could be all too easily achieved."

De Beer nodded slowly as he stepped in after van Huuiten. "I understand, governor. Although I can not help but feel that with the captain being…"  
He broke off as van Huuiten slowly tilted his head. "Captain Sparrow's gender is not an issue, doctor. As far as I am concerned, regarding the duty and the fulfilment thereof, the Captain is a man to me. The captain came to harm due to my lack of foresight, as the sense of the letter of marque was to avoid her being arrested and accused here in Wilhemstad. I do not particularly care about what happens to her on sea or in any other port. Wilhelmstad, however, and the soil of Curacao, is my responsibility, and I do not care for having my agents and employees mistreated in such a manner."

De Beer nodded and put his bag down on the nightstand; assessing Imogen's raw and still bleeding back with a thoughtful frown and pursed lips.  
"And when the news make their way to the harbour that a privateer of yours was jailed and flogged without you showing any concern about it…"  
"I would never be able to employ another", van Huuiten finished for him. "I see you understand. I thought you knew me well enough not to think me capable of a sentimental weakness regarding my workforce, doctor."  
The doctor shrugged of his coat and started rolling up his sleeves. "I shouldn't have, Governor van Huuiten. I'd dare say the reason I did is probably the fact that it comes hard on a man to think of a woman doing the fighting for him."  
Van Huuiten smiled thinly. "It does, Doctor. Yet this is not any woman we are talking about. She is the offspring of Jack Sparrow. With employing her, I was rather hoping that the resourcefulness associated with this name would run in the family. I will have yet to receive full proof of it, but be that as it may…"

The doctor nodded again. "Be that as it may, the letter of marque was there to protect her from precisely what has happened to her now, and until you are sure it won't happen again, you will see her safe as is your duty as her superior."  
"Precisely", van Huuiten gave back and stood aside, reaching for the doorknob. "I will leave you to your duty, doctor de Beer. I will see how you fare in, say, an hour or two. I will also have some maids come up to assist you."  
"Thank you, governor", the doctor said, and van Huuiten closed the door behind him.

Finding a servant to instruct him to send some maids up to assist doctor de Beer took him a few minutes, and after that, he descended the stairs to head for his office and a talk to van Dijk. His proxy. Van Huuiten shook his head as he stopped, taking a deep breath. This man, one of his most trusted advisors, this man had turned on him? Really? What was there really to this outrageous event?

Making his way down to his office, Lucas van Huuiten still felt as if he wasn't quite capable of keeping up with the events, yet. He still hadn't even sat down for a second since leaving the ship that had brought him back to Curacao from New Amsterdam, he hadn't changed neither shirt nor coat and hadn't eaten a bit nor drunk a drop.

But there was no rest for the weary yet, he would have to deal with several things and with haste, at that, and until that he couldn't even begin thinking of having a rest.

The crew. He nodded to himself and changed his course, heading for the backyard instead. Her crew was in prison, as well, and he would see that the men were released first of all. Van Dijk was in his office, now, waiting for him there as ordered, and he could well sit there for a while longer, yet. It would help his mind, van Huuiten thought, if he was allowed to cool off a bit before dealing with him. Seldom in his life had he been in such a rage as the one he had fallen into at the sight of the captain being treated in such a manner.

How dare he! With another frown, van Huuiten swung himself into the saddle again to head down to the harbour fort and prison. How dare he! This time, he waited for four of his guards to mount and get in motion behind him before he set off, still clenching his jaws. Even without believing in the existence of the letter, how could he! Putting her into prison, yes, acceptable if not wise, but this!

Had van Dijk really believed Imogen to be so stupid? That she would come in there as bold as brass, lying about a non-existent letter of marque, expecting him to believe her?  
Had van Dijk believed him, Lucas van Huuiten, to be so stupid as to let himself be seduced in such a manner and fall for a woman, entitle her to the letter only to have… He shook his head grimly. Had someone gotten wind of what had happened on his desk a few months ago?

Or was it that van Dijk had not chosen to believe a claim he did not want to believe? He knew van Dijk hated pirates and that the concept of letters of marque was a atrocity to him, but that he would go as far as to run the risk of upsetting the governor in his fanatic war against piracy… Or did he truly believe he was doing him a favour? It was hard to believe.

Dismounting in the prison yard, he forced himself not to look at the gallows behind him but simply gave the order to set the crew of the Albatross free.

It only took a couple of minutes before the thirty-odd men were led, stumbling and blinking against the sunlight, into the yard. Obviously, they had not been mistreated, although they were dirty and grimy and bore the traces of shackles.

"Who is the first mate among you?", van Huuiten asked, watching a red haired, bearded man step forth.  
"I am. Where is ze captain?"  
"What is your name?"  
"Niels Peer Henningsen", was the reply. "Where is ze captain? Is she dead?"  
"She isn't", van Huuiten replied. "Yet."  
Henningsen scratched the back of his neck with a very unhappy expression. "We could hear her scream", he said in a low voice. "Could freeze ze marrow of yer bones."  
"She was flogged", van Huuiten gave back and was, suddenly, almost glad that he hadn't arrived a few minutes earlier. A few hours now, that would have been better, but as it was, he was glad he had not shared an experience that had shaken even such a weatherd old seaman. "She did survive, just, but I can not say if she will live."

Henningsen nodded. "Where is she?"  
"Captain Sparrow is in my personal care, Henningsen", van Huuiten gave back. "What happened here today is outrageous and unacceptable. No man, and no woman either, who stands under my responsibility, shall be treated in such a manner. It is my personal failure that this happened, and as such I see it as my personal duty to make sure she comes to no further harm."

Henningsen cocked one eyebrow.

"The captain works for me", van Huuiten said. "And she was treated in a way she had no way and no need to expect. And since it has been my personal proxy doing this it might as well have been me putting the noose around her neck. Someone who works for me can expect to be treated as someone who works for me."  
"Ze letter…" Henningsen began, pursing his lips. "Ze letter was gone."  
"Come again?"  
"Ze letter sat said we works for you. Ze letter of marque. He said he was in her cabin and it was not zere."  
Van Huuiten slowly raised his brows.  
"I know it was zere", Henningsen went on. "I have seen her lock it away.  
"Who said it was not there?"  
Henningsen shrugged. "A man I do not know. Looked like a soldier."  
"I see." Had van Dijk truly ordered someone to dispose of the document? It was almost unthinkable. Almost.

"I know we were pirates", Henningsen went on in a low voice. "But we all zought ze letter would protect us here."  
"It was meant to", van Huuiten replied. "And that is the reason why I will, firstly, delve into this case and find out what has happened and why and secondly, why the captain is in my house and being cared for there. As long as I don't know if there are more persons involved in this, I will have to assume she is still in danger. Yes, the captain and all of you should have been safe here. Yet you weren't, and I intend to find out why and make sure it never happens again. This is unacceptable. It shames me."

Henningsen shrugged. "We have not spoken nicely about you ze last few weeks", he said slowly with a slightly embarrassed grin. "But now I see it wasn't your fault, really. I guess Wilhelmstad is not zat bad, after all. Zings happen."  
Van Huuiten crossed his hands behind his back. "_Dinge sind geschehen die nicht hätten geschehen sollen und die nicht mit meinem Einverständnis geschehen sind_", van Huuiten said, making Henningsen blink at his sudden use of German. "_Ich hoffe, ich habe dich davon überzeugen können._" (1)  
"_Ihr habt_", Henningsen gave back with a thin smile. (2)

Van Huuiten nodded and the first mate of the Albatross stepped slowly back into the lines of the crew. Normally, the governor would not have taken such a pain to reassure simple sailors that he was sorry about an event and would make up for it. But in this case, he knew it was vital to have the men dispositioned towards him as otherwise, word about this incident would make its round very quickly in the inns and brothels around the harbour.  
And with it, the words that working for van Huuiten in Wilhemstad was maybe not the wisest of ideas, for you could not be sure of the welcome you received.

So if he could employ the sailors in aiding him to avoid rumours of that kind, he would.  
And it wasn't even that he was lying, he thought grimly as he pulled himself into the saddle again. It was outrageous, he would not rest before he was sure he had put an end to such as this, and he certainly could not afford a reputation of being a cruel and careless employer. Curacao and Wilhelmstad were not in a position to offer enough money to overcome such resilience that could arise with these rumours if he would ever need to employ another privateer.  
Or even a normal captain for any other mission.

He made his way back to his residence again, preparing himself for the discussion with van Dijk. He would have to be careful as not to break out into a fit of rage, and this made him feel slightly nervous. He truly could not remember when last he had felt such a rage. He told himself to calm down, to lock this rage away, for with it, he wouldn't be able to act and talk properly. And thus, van Dijk might yet end up having the better of him.

_Mistreating my employees. Ignoring my decrees. Doing away with documents.  
_Slowly, very slowly, van Huuiten managed to suffocate the rage and turn it into a smouldering glow rather than a blazing flame. Rage was no good advisor, never and under no circumstances. So he tried his best to keep the anger at bay and prepare himself for the discussion that was to come. And after that, he could deal with himself. But not before. There were far more important matters on his mind right now than getting out of this stiff and uncomfortable uniform and boots or getting some food into his body.

And everything to think about was more welcome than the memory of the scene that had presented itself as he had stormed in full gallop into the prison courtyard earlier that day. Or the sight of her as she had collapsed before him, the noose still around her neck. He had tried to avert his eyes, but the image of her hideously disfigured back had burned itself into his mind. Yes, she was replaceable and not at all that important.

But by god… no one treated one of Lucas van Huuiten's men like that. Not even van Dijk.

Trying not to fan the flames of his anger anew, van Huuiten forced his mind to remain calm as he strode down the corridor that led to his office. He stopped before the doors to take another deep breath to calm himself down before entering.

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(1) "Things have happened that should not have happened and that have not happened with my accord. I hope I have assured you of that."

(2) "You have."


	11. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"This is all I can do for her, governor." The doctor packed his gear together again and looked down at Imogen's pale form, lying on her stomach on the bed, the torso bandaged in clean linen. "The rest is up to her, and her strength alone."  
Van Huuiten looked at the doctor. "Is there anything else we can do?"  
The doctor shrugged. "Pray", he said simply, took his hat and left Lucas van Huuiten alone with the unconscious Imogen.

Slowly, he walked over around the bed and folded his hands behind his back as he stared out of the window, into the park and garden behind the residence.

_"What in the name of all that is holy have you been thinking?", van Huuiten asked. "By god and all his angels, van Dijk, have you lost your mind?" He couldn't remember when last he had been so fighting for self-control. He was pacing back and forth, gesticulating harshly, while Arminius van Dijk watched him with an unmoving face and narrowed eyes.  
__"I saw a pirate and arrested him. Her."  
__Van Huuiten spun around and faced him. "So far, so good. So why didn't you have the letter brought here?"  
__"There was no letter."  
__Van Huuiten narrowed his eyes as well. "I personally signed it and gave it to the captain, van Dijk. And I can not imagine her loosing it."  
__Van Dijk shrugged. "It was not there. And I could not find the countersigned copy in your desk."  
__The governor took a deep breath to calm himself. "This still gives you no excuse to have the captain flogged in such a brutal manner."_

_"She confessed piracy", van Dijk said coldly. "I have the document here to prove it."  
__Van Huuiten narrowed his eyes into two dangerously glowing slits. "And do you know, van Dijk, how much I care about a confession that is pressed out of the subject by torture?" He took the offered document and slowly ripped in two, then in four pieces. "And now, if you please, I will have the explanation, and the whole of it."  
__"I gave you all explanation I saw fit", van Dijk said, slightly shaken. "And I remind you not to forget that I equal you in rank."  
__"In rank maybe", van Huuiten said smoothly. "But certainly not in authority. The first thing I want to know is how you could have thought me that stupid and foolish to let myself be seduced in such an outright manner? And the second is: Where is the Albatross?"_

_Van Dijk paled even more. "Albatross?"  
__"Captain Sparrow's ship. The Albatross. Surely you must be aware of the name, since you had the ship searched for the letter of marque?" Van Huuiten slowly crossed his arms.  
__Van Dijk swallowed. "I gave her to a trusted man of mine, governor."  
__"Ah." Van Huuiten slowly walked over to his desk and sat down, picking up some papers. "And who would that be?"  
__"A man who has been working for me for several years now, and whom I trust."  
__"And who would that be?", van Huuiten asked again in a slightly impatient way. He was beginning to get his self-control back.  
__"A man who has been unjustly arrested and unjustly treated as a pirate in your own prison."_

_Van Huuiten leaned slowly back. "I begin to understand. I have wondered how van der Vegt could so easily escape from my prison without leaving any trace. So van der Vegt is your man. And he got into prison accused of piracy, in turn accusing a lady in Curacao of piracy, I guess you have familiarised yourself with that particular case.  
__"Indeed I have, governor, and I am outraged as to the treatment towards an upright…"  
__"I could say the same about me", van Huuiten interrupted him. "For I could not help, after considering every possible angle of this case, doing what I strongly convinced was the right thing, which was arresting van der Vegt as a pirate and letting the lady go. In fact, only, I have not. I seized the opportunity to rid the seas of two pirates, in that I did one away and made the other my own man."_

_Van Dijk took a deep breath, but before he could say anything, van Huuiten went on. "And so I am faced, after coming back, with the facts that you chose to ignore my decrees and amend things towards your own liking, which was setting the pirate free and accusing my own privateer of piracy, aiming to hang her. And if I had not been there in the nick of time, you had been successful. What made you so bold as to frankly ignore my own orders and decrees, I wonder, van Dijk?"_

_"The injustice…", van Dijk began and van Huuiten narrowed his eyes again.  
__"The injustice? Of imprisoning a pirate? Am I an unjust man for that?"  
__"Van der Vegt is no pirate!"  
__"And I decreed he is after examining all proofs!" Van Huuiten slammed a hand on the desk. _

_A threatening silence hung in the office for a while. _

_"And now one last question, van Dijk. If van der Vegt is your man, then why was he in Tortuga, stealing a pirate ship?" He slowly crossed his arms and watched van Dijk. "I see you fail to answer. You disappoint me, van Dijk, I thought you more clever than coming up with such a meagre scheme. Did you really think I would come back, find the pirate in my prison gone with the ship of my privateer whom you had hanged? Or did you intend to dispose of my own form as efficiently as you planned with the captain?"_

_"Governor I…"  
__"I eagerly await your account, van Dijk."  
__Van Dijk slowly crossed his arms and thrust out his chin, fighting to remain half-way dignified. "Why am I suddenly treated as if I was the pirate? I only did what I thought was right."  
__"Right… for whom, van Dijk? For you? Doubtless. For Curacao? Maybe. But your means are none that I will see employed in aiding this colony, van Dijk."_

Van Dijk sat now in his house, under guard, not allowed to leave his home unless summoned by the governor and guarded by at least two men. He would have to deal with him quite soon, but he intended to delve deeply into that particular case. He was absolutely sure there was more to the relationship between van der Vegt and van Dijk, and one that was not necessarily beneficial to Wilhelmstad, the whole of Curacao, or the Dutch Republic, for that matter.

Not for the first time since he had come ashore this very morning, finding a very agitated Captain Uettersen on the pier waiting for him, he asked himself if he could have avoided this, if he could have seen the treachery in van Dijk, if he had not himself laid a knife against Curacao's throat with his choice of a proxy.

And only thanks to Uettersen had he been informed of the ongoings, how ever the good captain had gotten wind of that. He had walked in utmost haste to his residence, had a horse readied while he fetched the document and had set off at full gallop towards the harbour fort and the prison. Maybe he should not have bothered with fetching the document first and gone there straight away...

Van Huuiten slowly turned around again.

…_the shining saviour on a white steed…_

Nonetheless he had almost been to late. Most likely had been too late. She had received twenty-five lashes, and he knew stronger men had succumbed to less than twenty. How she possibly could have survived this was a mystery, but she certainly wasn't through yet.

He walked over to the chair that stood beside her bed and sat down, looking at her pale and lifeless face. What had made him hurry that much? Yes, she was a captain, but yes, a replaceable one, hardly more than a soldier. Yes, a privateer was no valuable military resource like a trained naval officer. But the stab of pain in his own soul as he had seen her collapse with the noose around her neck wasn't explained that easily, either.

And neither was his current feeling of helpless anger as he watched her face. Shreds of memories flashed past his consciousness as he did so, and he slowly clenched his fists.

_"A messenger from?"  
__"Captain Sparrow."_

He had been surprised when he first had seen her, not for the first time at all, but for the first time as a captain. But even then, not knowing what had happened to her, he could see something dark lurking in those eyes of her, something slightly disturbing, something that suggested that she would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. This had been proven quite right of course, the second time she came.

_"I like to see where you keep your hands, Mr van Huuiten."  
__"Well, I can only return that, captain. I don't particularly fancy having my documents ruined every time you pay me a visit."_

_"Governor, I assure you I will, as well as I am sure that I am not the only one to fully… stand up… to his words."_

His lips twitched as he thought of that particular incident. Rightfully, he should have slapped her then, but he had chosen to let it happen. Maybe he had just wanted to know how far she would dare to go. But for some reason, this seemed to have happened a lifetime ago… the woman involved certainly didn't exist any more.

He looked back at Imogen's face. There was a threatening truth looming in these words.

_"My motifs are quite simple, Mr van Huuiten. I just want to make sure you will remember our agreement and also, I want to make sure you know I haven't forgotten that my life and well-being is in your hands, alone."_

He slowly pursed his lips. She had been speaking the truth, of course. And as of today, it seemed he had utterly failed her. She had done nothing to deserve being treated like that, and he had failed to make the right arrangements and take the proper precautions to avoid something like this happening. But how could he have foreseen that?  
He couldn't. But he had the feeling he would never quite be able to forgive himself for that.

_"I'm not a chance, governor. What you see is what you get. Take it, or leave it."_

He had, of course, taken. He shouldn't have, it had gotten into her head later. But still…

_"You are a man of honour, Mr van Huuiten. It's not something I'm used to, I admit."  
__"And doubtless better than you deserve."_

Where was this leading? Not the memories, but the fact he was so vividly reliving them without him being able to stop himself? Of course he was no man for her. And she no woman for him. There were so many social barriers between them, it was simply unthinkable. But still…  
Still, he couldn't get the image out of his head of his fingers burying themselves into those black curls again. He angrily shook his head, but to no avail.

_"That is an interesting feature you have there, governor…"_

He looked down at himself, then back at her.

He knew from the beginning that there should be no second time. Not that he hadn't wanted one, in a way. But the way this… negotiation had happened was not the way he chose these things to be. So there would be no second time, but he was still distraught at the memories of how harsh he had to become for her to realise this. He hadn't wanted to shame her so. But she had not given him another choice.

_"Trivial?"  
__"Is the meaning of the word familiar to you, Captain Sparrow?"_

Bitter. The feeling left in his mouth after he had said these words could only be described as bitter. He had hoped she would get the point after that, but for some reason, she seemed to have been caught up inside her own head, unable to realise what was going on in someone else's.

_"I must say that I thought…"  
__"And I must say I get the impression that thinking is not your strong point, Captain Sparrow. You would do well to remember who… and what… you are. And what you are not."_

No, by god, he had not enjoyed it to treat her like this. It had left him feeling cold.

_"I will elide this. Once. I bid you a good day."_

He shuddered slightly and slowly covered his face in his hands with a drawn out sigh. The whole ugly scene had left him feeling cold and bitter, he hated to treat people like that, but she had not given him any other choice than that. He would never willingly humiliate someone to such an extent, but had to draw the line there. It would not happen again.

He looked at Imogen again. And not likely to change it anymore, no matter what he secretly though about, or maybe even wished for. As of yet, it wasn't even clear if she would live to see another sunrise. Thinking about these things was not only improper but simply wrong. He didn't even know if she would survive this. Why did he bother himself with indulgments in sinful fornications?

And if she did survive? What would that change? It would not remove the barriers between them. And it seemed unlikely, after what had happened, that she ever would consider it again. Which was as well.

Yet…  
He slowly looked at the palms of his hands.

_"I wanted to listen, sir."_

He sighed.

_"I wanted to be a little closer to the music."_

He would have been prone to think that this kind of music would mean nothing to such as her but obviously, he had been mistaken. He had been touched, deeply touched, to find her sitting there, eyes closed, listening as if in trance, with tears spilling down her cheeks. For a moment there, he had to resist the urge to walk over and wipe them away with his own hands. She suddenly had seemed so vulnerable… so almost innocent.

_"It was beautiful. But that does it no justice… it's like saying the ocean is deep. Or wet."_

Eloquent. A masterpiece. Impressive. Nigh perfect. Brilliant. Superb. Wonderful.  
All were words people had had for his music. Some of them honest praise, some of them meaningless phrases of politeness. But for the first time in his life he had heard that someone had used the word beautiful. And certainly, never before had been someone touched to tears by listening to him.

And he could not deny that having caught a glimpse at that particular side of her soul had touched his own.

With another heavy sigh, Lucas van Huuiten slowly folded his hands, his elbows propped on his thighs, his head bowed over his folded hands. And he silently began to pray.


	12. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"What has happened to law and order in my city, pray tell?" Governor Burke spread out his fingers on the desk and leaned forward with angrily narrowed eyes and the six elderly, honourable gentlemen before him shuffled their feet and played with buttons of their coats like a group of little boys having been caught in the act of mischief.  
"What has happened to the society here, and to the law-abiding gentlemen I thought were part of it? How come that as soon as I turn my back, citizens of mine get shot at birthday celebrations?" He stared at Jack. "Especially by newly arrived citizens."  
Jack withstood the urge to grin and waggle his fingers, but only just. His hands had already twitched. "Governor, I am truly, and deeply sorry but…"

"Being sorry, Captain McGuyre, does not bring O'Brien back and does nothing whatsoever to ease the duty of telling his family in England that he has passed away. The lad was only three and twenty, for god's sake!"  
"Well, he had a mouth like an old hag", someone muttered and the governor shot upright.  
"Who said that?!"

Silence answered him in which the only sound was a cautious cough.

"Gentlemen, there are laws in this city, and they are the same as back home in England, and made by the same king." Burke narrowed his eyes again and looked at each man in turn. "And while I can understand that these accusations and the way they were made against Captain McGuyre are outrageous, I do have the question burning on my nails as to why no one came to me with this matter so it could be cleared up nice and smooth, officially, without any deaths?"

No one answered. The silence had a rather looming quality, like an executioner's blade about to drop. Governor Burke slowly shook his head and fell back into his seat with a heavy sigh. "And me learning from the whole affair three days later, and from my own servant's gossip, at that, doesn't make it any easier, gentlemen. I would have at least expected some attempt of honesty."

He shook his head again. "By rights, I should jail you, all of you, for at least two weeks, for ignoring king's law and illegal duelling. But I know you all to be gentlemen, and I will accept a parole of honour from each of you that such as this will not happen again, ever, no matter how harsh the circumstances." He slowly folded his hands. "And I will graciously accept an amount of thirty doubloons from each of you as an apology and gesture of goodwill, to be entrusted to his bereaved family and young widow. This is all for now."

Shuffling slowly into action, the men exchanged a few hesitating glances with each other, then slowly put on their hats and started to clear their throats or unobtrusively scratch a leg.

"Oh and gentlemen", Burke said and they all slowly turned around again to face him. "The next ship for England will be leaving in three weeks time. I do very much hope I will have the one hundred and eighty doubloons by then. You may leave."

Slightly embarrassed and more than slightly dismayed, the gentlemen dispersed outside the governor's residence to flee into the sanctities of their homes. Jack found himself in the company of Watkinson who slowed his pace down a bit to match Jack's.

"Well, I dare say that the governor was a little bit upset", he remarked dryly.  
"I can't say he hadn't had all reason to", Jack replied cautiously and Watkinson grinned.  
"Oh, what the hell. Captain, I must say whatever will come out of this, it was some celebration and if I am any judge, you almost enjoyed this as much as I did."  
Jack flashed him a lopsided grin. "Well, I can't say I didn't enjoy showing the young man something of the world, as you so eloquently put it, but I could have done without the insults, especially to my lady. And she was greatly upset, with good reason."

"Doubtlessly", Watkinson gave back. "Yet everything came to a good end, did it not? I on my part had no doubt whatsoever about the outcome of this, for rage is a very bad advisor in a duel with pistols where all you need is a good aim and thus, a very steady hand."  
"I have to admit I was quite enraged myself, Watkinson", Jack said with a tilted head and Watkinson chuckled.  
"Oh, no doubt, Captain, no doubt. But you see, you have had far more time to practise handling these feelings and having yourself under control. A hothead, that's what O'Brien was."  
"Quite so."

They walked in silence for a while.

"Captain McGuyre", Watkinson said after a while in a thoughtful tone. "I do wonder if you could consider coming to my house more regularly. I used to run a small round of cards for a few friends who, by now, most of them have either passed away, succumbed to the fortunes of war or simply moved back to England. But I could re-establish it again. What do you think?"  
Jack lifted one eyebrow, then grinned. "I am honoured, Mr Watkinson", he said. "Whence do you expect me to call again?"  
"How about every Friday night?"  
"Done, then."

They shook hands and parted, and Jack walked, with a much more easy feeling, the rest of the way alone with his thoughts. That had been a close shave, and thirty doubloons was a shameful amount of money, but better to pay that without grumbling than have the governor delve more deeply into that case, particularly the accusations of piracy.

He found Elizabeth and Bill in the Library, sharing a cup of tea with slightly anxious faces. Elizabeth got up quickly when she saw him come in. "How did it go?"  
Jack shrugged with a slight smile. "Better than expected. We got a scolding and have to pay thirty doubloons each as compensation."  
"Thirty?" Bill wrinkled his brow and Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't think we have that much in the whole house if I looked under all cushions, Jack."

Jack grinned wryly. "I do, love, don't worry."  
She slowly crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. "Have you?"  
He shrugged. "Do you think me incapable of putting some spare money aside?"  
"I'm not too sure. 'Waste not want not' is not a phrase I would have thought of in connection with your former self, Jack."  
"No?" Jack grinned and took her hand in his. "Maybe there was more to my former self than met the eye?" He kissed her hand and twitched his eyebrows.  
Elizabeth smiled, albeit slightly exasperated. "Even if I run the danger of repeating myself: Life with you certainly is not boring, Jack. No matter what else it is."  
"I am not too sure if that was a compliment, my dear", Jack said with a slightly tilted head and Elizabeth shrugged with a lopsided smile.  
"Neither do I."

x x x x x x x x

"How does it look, Doctor de Beer?"  
The doctor slowly straightened up and shrugged. "I have to be honest, governor. Not good. Not good at all. It was right to call me, even at this time of night, for a fever like that could easily kill her within hours. But even with all my skills, I don't know if I can save her."

Governor van Huuiten nodded slowly, freezing his face into a mask of indifference. A few days ago Imogen had developed a fever, and she had started moaning and tossing around, but by now, her face was red flushed and her body glowing, almost burning with fever. It had suddenly got worse within a few hours and he had summoned the doctor who had made haste in coming here.

Yet it seemed that even the medication he had prepared would be of little use. The maid beside her, one of the few of his household who took turns in caring for her, tried to spoon the mixture between Imogen's cracked lips, but she tossed and threw her head to and fro and, for some reason, was digging her fingers into the bed sheet beneath her as if desperately holding on to it, like a shipwrecked man to a piece of wood.

"Wrap her legs in cloth soaked in cold water", the doctor instructed the maid. "Wash her body down with cold water every hour, to help keep the temperature down. If the fever rises any higher, we will loose her."  
The maid nodded and gave up on the attempt to dribble the medicine into Imogen's mouth and then looked up at the doctor and the governor. She shrugged a bit shyly and cleared her throat. "She calmed down a bit, somewhat, yesterday in the late afternoon, as the day before. I will try again to give her the medicine then."

"Late afternoon?" The doctor pursed his lips thoughtfully and cast a look at van Huuiten whose face had frozen even more, all of a sudden. "Governor?"  
"Late afternoon", van Huuiten said to the maid. "Say, approximately between the hour of four and six?"  
The maid nodded and the governor looked back at de Beer. "This is the time I come up from my office and settle down in my study to practise."  
"Practise?"  
"Music, doctor."  
"Oh."

The two men exchanged a rather long and thoughtful glance.

"Truly, it seems like she is fond of music, governor. In that case it would be, maybe, not too bad an idea to… relocate your practise sessions?" The doctor smiled faintly.  
"Doctor?" Van Huuiten stiffened slightly and folded his hands behind his back.  
"If the maid says she calms down upon hearing music, then we should not deprive her of this particular kind of obviously helpful medication?"  
Van Huuiten forced his jaws to relax. "I never thought of my music as having medical properties, Doctor de Beer."  
"Well, they do say, do they not, that music has magical properties, Governor."  
"And I say this is heathen superstition, doctor. Music is all about skill and dedication and not…" He broke off as de Beer lifted a hand as a gesture of offering peace.

"Please, Governor", he said. "Let us not indulge into philosophical discussions when there is a life at stake. And if hearing music keeps her from slipping further away from us, and we want to do anything in our power to keep her alive…" He broke off with a meaningful tilt of his head and van Huuiten slowly raised his eyebrows.  
"I do understand you perfectly well, Doctor. I just do not see why I would have to relocate my instrument. I will just leave the doors open in future."  
"If you think it will be enough", the doctor said with a furrowed brow.  
"You disagree?"  
The doctor shrugged. "I must say, never before have I medicated a patient with music, governor. But were I to make a prescription after hearing the words of the maid, I would say that no, it won't."  
"Very well", van Huuiten said with a slightly exasperated sigh. "Very well. Far be to from me to ignore a doctor's advise."  
"Wise words, governor. I surely would not tell you how to run the colony."  
Van Huuiten gave the smiling doctor a sour look.

Yet he meant what he had said, and that afternoon, he carried his music stand into Imogen's room and came back later with the cello in its case. Feeling more than a bit irritated yet not knowing why, he unpacked the instrument, settled down on the chair in the far corner, next to the fireplace, and inspected the bow.

"Do you want me to leave, Mr van Huuiten?" He looked up to see the maid already rising from her chair. He waved at her to stay put.  
"Not necessarily. Yet if you have something to do meanwhilst, by all means." Van Huuiten said and lowered his head to run the bow across the strings, tuning his instrument.  
The maid rose completely. "I will ready more water and cloths, then", she said and left after a curtsey.

Taking a deep breath, Lucas van Huuiten drew the bow across the string again to produce a long note, clear and deep, that seemed to fill the whole small room, without taking his eyes of Imogen's pale face that was, for days now, locked in a grimace of pain. She was still tossing her head back and forth with a soft moan every ten seconds.

He drew the bow back across the next string, producing another long note and decreasing the volume as he did so. The instrument tuned to his satisfaction, he shifted in his chair again and opened the sheet of music before him, entitled _Chiacona a Basso Solo, Guiseppe Colombi, 1670. _

He had hidden his worries from the outside world so far, he didn't particularly care to have anyone know just how much Imogen's state upset him.  
Yes, he did blame himself, in a way, for having caused her suffering, and even if it had been completely unintentionally. But even this feeling of responsibility did not explain the helpless anger that arose in him whenever he cast a glance at her dangerously pale and lifeless face. She seemed to be slipping away despite everything the doctor and his maids had tried.

And if there was something to what the maid had said and the doctor believed, this was the last resort they could possibly try.

_"I never thought of my music as having medical properties, Doctor de Beer."_

Yet he could not deny that somehow, this was exactly what seemed to be the case. As he was halfway through the first piece, he could see her hands slowly relax, followed shortly by her face. It almost seemed like the face of a sick and suffering child, sung to sleep by the soothing voice of a loving mother, and for the life of him, he could not explain why that notion made him feel so embarrassed that he had to close his eyes as not to see her softly smiling face any longer. Maybe it was because she seemed so oddly at peace, all of a sudden.

At peace… as if she was now, at last, slowly rising above all earthly pain and fears. Slipping away… with a smile on her face because he played for her. For the first time. And for the last.

The more did it surprise him, as he finally opened his eyes again after the last note had faded away, to find her looking at him.


	13. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"I am delighted to find you awake, Captain", Lucas van Huuiten said, resting his left arm on the corpus of his cello as he tried to get his composure back after the dreadful thoughts that had accompanied him throughout the piece of music he had been playing. "How is your state of health?"

Her face resting on her right cheek, Imogen swallowed and tried to answer him, yet her voice did not obey her. The only sound emerging from her lips was a coarse, rasped whisper and he smoothly got up, put down his bow on the chair and walked over to the one beside her bed where he sat down and filled a glass of water from the bottle on the nightstand. Yet realising she was clearly in no state yet to drink by herself, he swallowed and lifted her head with his left hand as he brought the glass to her lips with his right one, helping her drink.

She gave him a small, strained smile as he laid her head back onto the pillow again and croaked a word of thanks. He waved this aside. "How do you feel, Captain?"  
"It hurts", she rasped, closing her eyes. "It still hurts… and I'm so tired…"  
"Then rest yourself", he said in a low voice, trying to comfort her in some way. "Rest yourself. I will let no further harm befall you."  
Imogen opened her eyes again and smiled, a true, if weak smile, this time.

"I was lost at sea", she whispered, and van Huuiten had to strain his hears and lean a little forward to understand her words. "I was lost at sea, and the current dragged me away. I didn't know where the shore was…" She swallowed, licked her dry lips and closed her eyes. "I had to hold on… but my strength was waning. There was no shore… nowhere…"  
"Captain, rest yourself", van Huuiten said, anxious she might overstrain herself with too much talking. But she didn't seem to either be able or willing to stop.  
"It was dark and cold and frightening…"  
"Captain…"  
"And I couldn't find my way back…" It sounded almost like a sob.  
"Captain, please, do not…"  
"I was about to give up…", she whispered and opened her eyes again. "And then I heard the music."  
He was brought up short and swallowed. "Music?"  
"I don't know. I didn't know where it was coming from, but I knew that it would lead me… to safety."  
"I…" He felt at a loss as to what to say. For some reason, the cracked and hoarse voice of hers made the meaning of her words even worse.  
"It brought me back. I followed the music, and I reached the shore… fell into the sand… and I was here…"

_Seeing me play. By god and all his angels, what is happening?_ "Captain, please, rest yourself and we can discuss this as soon as…"  
"You saved my life…"  
He took a deep breath. "It gladdens my heart if I truly did so, believe me. But you should stop talking now and rest."  
There was something very disturbing in the way she looked at him.

Even more so as she slowly lifted her hand and lifted one trembling finger to hesitatingly touch his cheek. He was about to say something, but then thought better of it. She was still in fever and thus…  
She slowly turned her hand and her lips parted as she stared at her finger… and the sheen of moisture that covered her fingertip. He swallowed again as he realised this and felt his heart plunge into a racing pace. How could he have possibly been shedding tears without him noticing? _Impossible…_

"You saved my life", she whispered again, hardly audible this time, and moved her eyes back to his face, looking straight into his eyes. There was a sheen in hers, as if she was fighting her tears now. "Twice. Why?"  
"Why?", he asked, slightly dismayed. "I could hardly let you die, could I?"  
"But it's just me", she croaked and blinked. A tear fell from her lashes of her right eye, hitting the sheet, while the one that came free from her left one trickled down her cheek. He couldn't watch it and reached out to wipe it away with his thumb. "What do you mean, _just_?", he asked gently, with much more calmness than he felt, and closed his left hand around hers. "_Just_ you?"  
She swallowed and blinked again, more tears coming free from her eyes. "You played for me", she whispered. "You saved my life."  
"We will discuss this, Captain", he said gently, not wanting to delve into that topic yet. _At all._ "For now, your main concern is to rest and get well. And that was an order."

Imogen tried to smile. "Aye, sir", she croaked and he leaned forward some more, giving up on fighting himself. He placed his right hand on her cheek and smoothed back her hair. Yet even as he was about to say something, he felt he couldn't, and suddenly the whole awkwardness of this situation overcame him and with a wrench, he sat up straight and rose in one motion. "I will see you, Captain", he said and left, all but fleeing her vicinity.

Yet even as he reached the sanctuary of his study, he realised there would be no refuge here, since his cello was… in her vicinity. He slowly slumped down on the chair at the table and, propping up the elbows on the wood before him, and buried his face in his hands.

_This is not happening. This is just me being strained with worrying after that long journey. This. Is. Not. Happening. _

If he could just rest, have a few nights of proper sleep that, for some reason, he hadn't had since coming back to Wilhelmstad, he would be as good as new.

x x x x x x x x

Utterly disturbed by the look on his face as he had left her, Imogen could not find any rest whatsoever. And the memory of his fingers in her hair, his hand on her cheek did nothing to calm her heartbeat. She almost could have convinced herself that she had been dreaming this… that it had been the last part of the fleeting dream her fever had left her with.

But she had to only open her eyes and there it was, the proof: his instrument leaning against a chair, telling her the truth. And even if the sensation on her skin was long gone, whenever she looked at the middle finger of her left hand, she could still see, in her memory, the sheen of moisture that she had thought she had imagined on his cheeks.

She almost jumped when the door opened again, but this time, it was just the maid, followed by a second one, and they carried with them cloth and a bowl of water. They expressed their delight at seeing her awake and conscious, spooned some milk and medicine into her and swathed her still glowing body in wet and cold cloths.  
It was soothing, it was incredibly relieving. But it also helped clear up her mind, and that was something she found hard to deal with. For she had hoped with the fever declining, the feverish memories would fog and cloud over, becoming less real and thus, less threatening. But the contrary was the case. They were becoming more real. And more disturbing.

Relief came in the form of a long and dreamless slumber, and only occasionally did she surface enough into consciousness to realise that someone was giving her water, medicine or some clear and warm broth. Once, she thought there was music, but she wasn't sure if it was a dream, or a memory, or real. But she couldn't open her eyes and soon fell back asleep again.

x x x x x x x x

"Oh well, it's a shame really, with O'Brien and all that." Watkinson leaned back in his big and comfy armchair and Jack lifted his brows, folding his hands on his stomach as he, in turn, leaned back as well. The salon in which they met featured some very nice furniture, armchairs and divans, all dark red and dark wood, and a little fire was crackling away in the hearth, more for atmosphere's sake than for warmth, as they were in the middle of the Caribbean.

"That he's dead and leaves a widow or that it cost us such serious money?", Jack asked with a slight smirk and Watkinson pointed his cigar at him.  
"I like your way of thinking, Captain. And I leave you to choose which." With a smile, he pulled at his cigar and blew out a cloud of smoke. "Oh, forgive me my inhospitality. Cigar?"  
"I am not into the habit of tobacco", Jack gave back and Watkinson leaned forward again.  
"Now this is something we will have to remedy, Captain. There is hardly any pleasure greater than a good brandy and a good cigar to go with it."  
"I dare to disagree", Jack began and Watkinson chuckled.  
"And I believe you, but only as long as you haven't tried it out. You have to know something to be able to judge it, have you not?"

"True", Jack said with a half-way grin and picked one of the finger-thick cigars out of the box that Watkinson held out to him. He copied the movements he had seen Watkinson do with his, biting off the edge, and held the end over the candle that Watkinson extended to him.  
"And do not inhale the smoke, Captain", Watkinson warned, but Jack already dropped it and coughed and gagged.  
"You couldn't have told me that a tad bit earlier", he rasped and gasped for air. "For heaven's sake…"  
"Tsk, tsk." Watkinson shook his head and picked up the cigar Jack had dropped, waiting until Jack had calmed down again and the colour of his face went back from greenish white to normal. "That is not the best way to start a loving relationship."

Jack took the offered cigar and slowly cocked an eyebrow.  
_I am not sorry, Jack. Pirate.  
__It would never have worked between us. Keep telling yourself that, darling.  
_"Well, that does not necessarily mean it won't happen eventually", he said with a faint smile and closed his lips around the cigar again, sucked it and this time, did not inhale the cloud of smoke but let it slowly escape out of the corner of his mouth again.  
"I might even be eventually able to get used to this", he said slowly. Enjoyed carefully, the cigar did indeed have a certain appeal to the senses.

"I knew you would come over to my side eventually, Captain", Watkinson said and got up. Walking over to a cupboard beside the fireplace, he grinned at Jack over his shoulder. "You do not seem like a man to shun the little pleasures life has to offer."  
"I can say well judged, Mr Watkinson", Jack replied and leaned back again, giving his cigar another try. Yes, he definitely could get used to this…  
"Oh, it takes one to know one", Watkinson said and with another smile, brought forth two glasses and a small carafe. "Brandy?"  
"If you insist", Jack said with a grin and Watkinson poured two rather generous measures and handed Jack one glass before settling down again with his.

The fire crackled softly and the smoke of two cigars slowly coiled up and collected under the ceiling.

"Captain McGuyre, I do wonder…" Watkinson said after a while.  
"At what, Mr Watkinson?"  
"At the speed and accuracy you handled yonder pistol", Watkinson said after a small pause. "It was quite impressive."  
Jack grinned. "I haven't grown old in my business without knowing how to handle a shot, Mr Watkinson."  
"Of course not." Watkinson took a sip of his brandy. "The sea is a dangerous place."

Jack slowly leaned back into the divan and crossed his legs. Sampling the brandy, he had to admit that this, too, was as fine a quality as the cigar was, although he could not really judge on that, since it was his first ever. But all in all…

A servant knocked and slowly opened the door. "The gentlemen Barristone and Greenwood, milord."  
"Bring them in", Watkinson said and, tuning to Jack, lifted his glass. "Well, I say we relocate towards the table, Captain."

After the four of them had settled down, had been equipped with brandy and cigars and the cards had been dealt, Jack found himself in the strange position that he suddenly seemed to enjoy his life. He had doubted it to the point of refusal that he would ever truly be able to feel relaxed and settle down here. But here, now, sitting at the table with a glass of brandy and a cigar he grew increasingly fond of with every passing minute, he could only admit that society had things to offer, even to a retired pirate.

x x x x x x x x

When he cautiously staggered into his bedroom late, very late that night, he found Elizabeth fast asleep, hair undone and spilling out on the pillow around her head. Watching her face, so soft and relaxed in her sleep, he could not resist touching her, feeling his old and battered heart grow soft at the sight of her.  
"My Lizzie", he whispered and she opened her eyes with a muffled, sleepy sound.  
"Jack…?"  
"Aye, 'tis me, luv", he muttered, lowering himself down beside her. "Sorry for waking you up, it's tremendously late in the night, I've been drinking brandy and smoking cigars and…"  
She blinked. "I thought you didn't…"  
He smirked, with a tang of embarrassment. "I was forced to try, and then I had to admit it wasn't that bad at all…"

Now more or less fully awake, Elizabeth propped herself up onto her elbows. "And here I thought there wasn't a vice on sea or land you hadn't tried out yet, Jack."  
He pursed his lips. "Did ye?"  
She smiled, a slow, meaningful smile, yet Jack wasn't sure if he could decipher what meaning it held, precisely.

"Say, Jack", she began, slipping an arm around his neck. "Speaking of vices, and such…"  
A slow smile spread on Jack's lips in response to hers. "I'm awfully drunk, luv."  
"I can't imagine that stopping you, Jack." She breathed a kiss on his ear and he leaned over her a little more.  
"It doesn't", he replied, tracing the contour of her cheek wit a finger. "It just stops me, occasionally, from being very considerate, my dear."  
"Hmm…" Elizabeth moved her hands up to bury themselves in his hair. It was just about long enough again for her to do so, but it was most definitely long enough to be tousled and messed up to an extreme that made him look absolutely ridiculous when she did it. She giggled.

"Are you enjoying yourself, luv?", Jack asked in a low, humming voice and leaned over her to plant a kiss on her neck.  
"Not quite, yet, as I could be."  
He chuckled softly and nibbled her ear. "So coming back to indulge in vices…" he whispered, making her sigh, "…I have to say that with being joined in holy matrimony, it's not precisely a vice, now, is it?"  
"No", she said and ran her hands through his hair to smooth it back. "It's aimed to produce as many children as possible. But people of our age, especially women of my age, do not produce any more children."

Jack smiled down at her and met her lips with his. "Well, that does not necessarily have to keep us from trying, has it?", he whispered then smiled as she buried her hands in his hair again, this time to pull his face down to hers to kiss him.


	14. Chapter 12

Author's note: Bad news, folks. Due to a major upheaval in my private life, which is me moving to another part of the country, I have no idea when the next chapter will be up. Depending on how long it takes to find a place to live and set up phone and internet, it may be well a few weeks. Bear with me, this story is far from over, I just can not update it for a while. Stay tuned and forgive me, I tried not to leave you with a major cliffhanger. I'll be back as soon as I can. Oh and... I will find a way to check my emails, so this does not have to stop you from reviewing. (waggles eyebrows)

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**Chapter 12**

For the first week, Imogen had been more or less unconscious, and for the second week she had been awake, but hardly had all her senses together. By now, however, well into the third week, she found herself not only able to sit upright, but also to hang her legs out of the bed.

This lying around was beginning to drive her mad, a sure sign that she was on the mend, and she slowly got up, one hand against the wall to steady herself. Her clothes were lying on a commode beside her bed, washed and neatly folded, and with some effort, she managed to pull on her breeches. She didn't bother with a belt, though, but put on her shirt. Only then did it strike her as odd that there was a shirt, for hers had been ripped apart and this one was not mended but new.

Smiling faintly to herself, she cautiously made her way towards the window to have a look what was outside. The governor must have provided the shirt for her, one more reason to be grateful. The memory of how he had saved her life, however, and of how he had acted shortly afterwards, still was making her feel more than slightly unwell and nervous.

He had been his usual, cool and reserved self the next time she had seen him, the instrument removed from her room again. He had come in with a small board with two foldable legs to use it as a table on her knees while sitting in bed, some sheets of paper and ink and a quill.

_"It is about time we remedy that lack of linguistic proficiency that I was lamenting about earlier, Captain", he said as he sat down on the chair beside her bed. "Have you ever tried to speak another language?"  
__Imogen slowly sat up. "I was taught by my father to speak Spanish and French, governor, and I do speak a few bits of Mandarin and of some African dialect spoken at the Ivory Coast."  
__He lifted his eyebrows, seemingly rendered speechless for a moment. "Very well", he said after a while. "I am impressed. And if you have mastered Mandarin, even if it is only in fragments, then Dutch should not be a challenge, Captain."_

He had come every night, drilling her in his own language, and even if the somewhat throaty consonants that arose occasionally gave her some troubles, he was right. It wasn't a challenge, as such, just a lot of work. But it kept her mind of other things, things she didn't want to delve into…

_"Let us see what you remember, Captain. The numbers, please."  
"Een, twee, drie, vier, vijf, zes…" She still had to concentrate very heavily, but she managed. "Tien, twintig, deeertig, veertig, vijftig, zestig, zeventig, tachtig, neventig, honderd."_  
_"Well done." He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back. _

He had left her less than an hour ago, and as she stared out of the window, she suddenly realised she could hear him play again. In his study. And she couldn't help but feel that, again, she wanted to be there.  
She found herself biting her nails, nervously contemplating the two choices of action she had. She could stay in her room, nice and tight, straining her ears, or she could just go and find…

Before she even realised what she was doing, she found herself with the doorknob in her hand, peeking cautiously around in the corridor. _What am I doing…?  
_She was drawn by the music. She couldn't help it. Well, maybe she could have. But for some reason, she chose not to and wanted to be there. To listen. To be closer to the music.

Imogen followed the sound down the corridor and around a corner where she passed a flight of stairs. She remembered having come here before and walked down the corridor where the second last door on her right side stood slightly ajar. She cast a glance out of the window to her left, and then looked back at the open door, treading from one bare foot to the other.

What had seemed like a good idea at first now suddenly seemed incredibly stupid, and she held her breath as not to make herself obvious. But after a minute or so, the music started again, soft, sad, and so irresistible that she couldn't help herself.  
_This is how a moth must feel when she flies into the candle flame,_ she thought as she flitted through the gap in the door, preparing for her soul to be turned into ashes any moment under his icy stare at her interruption.

But he hadn't noticed her this time, she hadn't been announced and, wearing no shoes at all, her steps had made no noise whatsoever in the corridor. She slowly lowered herself down again and crossed her legs, ignoring the stinging pain in her back as the skin was stretched due to her slightly bend spine. She watched him, lost in concentration, his face slightly flushed and strands of his hair, for he was again wearing no wig, moving with every movement of his head.

His eyes closed and his brows furrowed as if in pain, his chin thrust out in concentration and his eyelids trembling ever so slightly, he almost looked to her as if he was not so much playing his instrument but making love to it. And for some strange, unsettling reason, that made her feel slightly fluttery and nervous in the stomach region.

She wanted to close her eyes to be able to listen without these distractions, but felt herself unable to look away from his face. She knew she was intruding, in some way, into his privacy and his music, his intimacy with his instrument, and this feeling was enhanced by the fact that he was wearing neither coat nor vest. She had never seen him in only a shirt and breeches.

Praying silently that he would not be mad at her for her intruding, she watched him, his slender fingers coaxing the most lovely sounds from the instrument between his knees, and listened. She was almost disappointed when the music was finally over, for a part of her would have liked for it to last forever. Another part of her mind, however, warned her that any moment… he would open his eyes.

He opened his eyes.

He looked at her.

She swallowed and hastily got back onto her feet again; grimacing with the pain the hasty and clumsy movement caused her back.  
"Captain?" His voice held neither accusation nor anger, just a suggestion of mild confusion. "Can I ask you what you are doing here?"  
She swallowed again. "I was… I was only listening sir, I could hear you play and I…" She looked down at her feet. "I am sorry for intruding; I'll be gone again…" Yet as she turned around, he spoke again.  
"Captain, there is no need to flee from my presence in such a manner."  
Imogen hesitatingly turned around again.  
"Would you like to hear some more?", van Huuiten asked her friendly, almost gently, and feeling immensely shy but unable to resist, she nodded. "I would, sir."  
He gestured at the chair and lifted his eyebrows as she lowered herself down again into the cross-legged position she had been in before. A faint hint of amusement was twitching the corners of his mouth.

Imogen bit her lower lip. "Can… Can I ask you something, sir?"  
"Yes?"  
She licked her lips. "What… what is this instrument? I have never heard nor seen one like it before."  
Van Huuiten smiled. "This, Captain, is a violoncello, and the reason why you have never heard of it before is probably to be blamed on the fact that it was, in fact, devised by a cunning Italian master hardly more than two decades ago." He looked at the neck of his instrument. "I used to play the violin, but that had left me, for some reason I could not explain, unsatisfied. Yet when I heard this for the first time, I was determined to make this music my own. I was declared mad and foolish for spending a good bit of my inherited fortune on a new instrument that was predicted to have little success, ever."

He smiled wryly back at her. "Yet I do not care about the success, Captain. My reward is the music in itself."  
Imogen nodded slowly, not quite knowing what to say.  
"Does that answer your question?" He shifted his left leg and brought the bow down again and Imogen nodded again. "Thank you, sir. It does."  
"The only trouble is, with this being a fairly new instrument in the musical world, there are little compositions for it. I do have a few sheets of music, send to me by a friend in Amsterdam, and I have adapted a few pieces that were written for the violin."

He touched a string with the bow and wrinkled his brow, then reached up for the peg and seemed to concentrate on the tone for a while, slowly manipulating the peg until he was satisfied. "And thus I was forced to be a bit more inventive, and about half of my repertoire is sprung from my own humble feather."  
Imogen blinked and slowly tilted her head. "You mean you can… write this music?"  
Van Huuiten seemed slightly amused. "You say this as if I had turned water into wine before your very eyes."  
Imogen looked at her hands and shrugged, then looked up with an embarrassed smile. "The effect would be the same, Governor. It is completely beyond me."  
"Well I guess I can not really blame you for that. A satisfactorily cultural education is usually somewhat absent in the parts of society that you hail from, Captain." He looked at her, but without any trace of mockery or disdain.  
"I grew up on a pirate ship", Imogen said, as if feeling the need to defend herself, to say it wasn't her fault.

Van Huuiten cast her a glance. "That explains for rather a lot", he remarked dryly and Imogen looked at her hands again. She knew she should be angry now, should defend herself and her roots, but for some reason, she could say nothing and only felt her cheeks burn in shame.  
"Captain? "  
She shrugged.  
"Captain Sparrow, I beg your forgiveness." His voice was very gentle, all of a sudden. "I did not mean to upset or insult you. I was being rather thoughtless just then."  
She looked up and shrugged again. "You were speaking nothing but the truth, I guess. That's what I am. The bastard daughter of a pirate and a whore."

He blinked and licked his lips, as if trying to say something reconciliating. "Captain", he finally said, his voice sounding a little bit shaken. "You should treat yourself to a bit more self-respect every now and then."  
"I beg you to be serious with me, Governor", Imogen said and narrowed her eyes. "It was nothing but the truth. There is no need to talk it into something it isn't. I do remember who I am, Governor. And what I am. And what I am not."

He blinked as he heard his own words from her and sighed. "You seem to put more value on something you are not, Captain. Because what you are is certainly more than… what you just said you are. I do not care to repeat it."  
"It doesn't change it, Governor." Imogen slowly tilted her head as he sternly looked at her.  
"Oh no, it does not change it. But you can use that fact as an excuse to remain who and what you are… or as an excuse to _change_ who and what you are."

She slowly leaned back and propped herself up on her hands. "And what could I possibly become, Governor van Huuiten?"  
"Is that for me to say?", he gave back with a faint smile. "I guess that is for you to find out." And with these words, he leaned forward again and drew the bow across the strings.  
"I wrote this", he said in a low voice. "But I just could not come up with a title yet."

The uncomfortable discussion thus brought to an end, Imogen inhaled deeply and closed her eyes to listen, finding herself captured in the music yet again, and even more than before. She didn't know if it was the fact that she knew, and was fairly impressed by it, that he had written this himself, or the music itself that was so beautiful, so tender and so incredibly sad it made her cry with sheer longing for something she could not name.  
She ran her hands down her face as he had ended and heard him sigh, not really daring to look at him again.

"I can hardly believe I have done it again, Captain", he said softly.  
"Done what?", she asked through her fingers and slowly got up to walk towards the window.

He didn't answer immediately, and she could hear him move and put down the bow.

"Moved you to tears", he said, suddenly standing behind her, and not expecting him there, Imogen spun around and involuntarily took a step back. Yet he didn't move, he just looked at her, down at her, in fact, for he was almost a foot taller than she was.  
Imogen looked past him at the cello again. "I can't find any words for it", she said in a slightly strained whisper. "But it felt like… it felt like… as if…" She swallowed again and closed her eyes. "As if I was lost at sea, forever lost at sea, but somehow, I could leave my body behind and fly home with the seagulls."

In the silence that followed, his voice sounded strangely heavy, even though he was almost whispering. "I think you have just given it a name." There was a suggestion of a smile in his voice, but she didn't open her eyes and flinched when she could suddenly feel his thumb on her cheek, gently brushing the tears away. "Fly home with the seagulls."

She opened her eyes then and, swallowing, took another step back. Her heart was racing, threatening to jump out of her throat any moment.

He looked down at her again; long and rather thoughtful, then took a deep breath and slightly tilted his head. "Are you afraid of me?"  
Clenching her jaws, she looked at him again, forced herself to look at him, not to shy away but to look at his face, and nodded.

"Why?", he asked in a whisper, moving no muscle in his face.  
His face that was so pale with his fair northern skin, his hair that was almost ivory white and his eyes that were as grey as unpolished silver.  
Remembering her own reflection in a mirror with her tanned and darkened skin, her hair as black as ebony and her dark brown eyes, Imogen swallowed and nervously licked her lips.

"Because the light…", she finally managed, in a whisper as well, "…can be as frightening as the darkness."

"Why are you afraid of the light?", he asked, his face still unmoving, his voice still a whisper. Unable to look away, Imogen found herself captured in his gaze. "Because the light is merciless. Darkness is gentle, it hides and covers. Yet the light is merciless, it uncovers and drags out things inside me that I do not want anyone to see, not even myself." Her voice was slightly shaking by now, but she had no way to steady it.

"And yet", he gave back in that haunting whisper of his that made the hairs on her arms rise. "Yet there is no darkness without the light." He took a small step forward and this time, she was unable to move or to look away as he went on. "And there is no light… without the darkness." He took a deep breath and she could see his jaws work for a few seconds.

"And if you are afraid of the light, then you have not yet seen the shadows it can cast", he whispered, still locking her gaze with his. "But this is not what I want you to be, or what you should be. I may want many things, some of which are doubtlessly not mine to ask for, but what I do not want you to be is my shadow, Imogen. And if you come to me, then come to me of your own free will and I swear…", he broke off and swallowed, then licked his lips and went on, "… I swear upon my honour and upon the cross of Christ, that however your choice, it will not, I repeat, it will not affect our business relationship whatsoever." He looked at her, as if to wait for these words to sink in. "Do you believe me?"

Did she? Had he ever given her reason to doubt anything he said? Could she doubt an oath like that? And if she did… she swallowed… if she did, then what would that imply? And here he was still waiting for an answer, his brow slowly furrowing as he misinterpreted her long silence. "Yes", she whispered, her voice more than a little husky. "I believe you."

He sighed, seemingly relieved, and finally looked down, breaking that unsettling eye contact. She took a deep breath in turn to steady herself and swallowed again when he looked up, the mask of cool reserve all gone from his face. Yet what exactly it was she was seeing was not clear to her. Or rather, it was. All too clear. She just did not dare to allow herself to see it.

He slowly reached out and touched her cheek, so softly as if she was the wing of a butterfly and he afraid to break her with his touch, then dropped the hand.  
"Imogen", he whispered and she found herself, again, captured in his gaze. "May I kiss you?"  
She stared at him, her eyes widening, her breath quickening, but her ears had not deceived her. Still locked in his tantalizing gaze, she slowly lifted up her face with slightly parted lips, then slowly closed her eyes. She could hear him take a deep breath, and then felt his hands gently cup her cheeks before his lips met hers in a soft and tender kiss.

He kissed her again, with more passion this time, and the heat this flushed through her body made the fever seem like a mild and warm summer day. She was burning, and the only thing that could douse these flames were his lips, soft and warm on hers, becoming slowly more and more passionate with every time their lips touched.

She was completely out of breath as he slowly broke the kiss and bent back, even though it had been the most gentle of kisses she had ever received… or given. But as she opened her eyes to look at him, finding him look down at her with a completely strange and disturbingly tender look in his eyes, the whole impossibility of the situation struck her like a fist and she stumbled a step back, leaving her cheeks feel cold as his hands suddenly were torn away from her face.

"No", she croaked, taking another step back while shaking her head. "This is madness…"

She was, all of a sudden, very, very afraid; not of him, oh certainly not of him anymore, but of the whole situation, and felt as if a maelstrom was about to drag her down and swallow her. "This is madness! It won't work! It can't! It can't last!" She could see he was trying to bring his face under control, not to show the utter dismay and pain and confusion that stood so clearly in his eyes, but that made it only worse.

With a sob, Imogen spun around on her heel and left his study in almost a run. She had only one thought: To get away from his presence, to avoid any further damage, to get away, to hide herself, to never look into his eyes again. For if she did, she knew, she surely would succumb yet again and would loose her soul completely.

She tried to ignore the feeling that she most likely, most certainly, already had.

And she didn't look back and thus, she didn't see him, still standing beside the window, and she didn't hear the deep, drawn out sigh coming from his chest as Lucas van Huuiten slowly dragged his hands down his face.


	15. Chapter 13

Author's note: Yay, there be WI FI hotspots in the place where I stay now.  
The suffering is over ere it has truly begun. I will continue my tale. Stay a while, and listen.

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Chapter 13

"Jack, do you really think this is a good idea, letting him do it?" Elizabeth shot Jack a rather thoughtful glance but Jack shrugged with a grin.  
"Where's the harm in that, Lizzie?"

They were all sitting outside in the garden, having tea and sweetbreads in the shadow of a tree and little Josh was sprawled out on a blanket on the ground, joined by Jack. The reason for Elizabeth worrying was the fact that Josh, aged five months now, was growing more teeth and chewed everything that was within reach and did not loudly protest. And flee.  
And the current object of Josh's interest was Jack's wooden leg as the boy was lying next to him, chomping down on the wood and drooling industriously while making rhythmic humming noises.

"It just looks a bit… unsettling", Elizabeth ventured cautiously.  
Jack still grinned. "It's not as if he hurts me or something…"  
"Of course not. Still…"  
"And I doubt he'll manage to chew through it, so I won't be falling over when I get up."  
"Yes, but…"

Jack shifted and the movement earned him a protesting squawk coming from Josh. With another grin, Jack picked the boy up and settled him on his lap where Josh instantly reached for the frills of his sleeve to try out if those were any good to sharpen his teeth with.  
"Here, let's find ye something else to chew on, junior. Yer granny's afraid ye might eat me alive", Jack said to the boy and produced something from the pocket of his coat.

Elizabeth felt something she couldn't quite name as she realised that the white, long object was the needle of bone that Jack used to carry in his hair.  
"Now, no sharp edges, not pointy bits, and it doesn't splinter, either. How's that?"  
Closing his chubby little fist around the needle and chomping down on it, Josh gave his approval and, pacified, remained silent and drooled peacefully onto Jack's trousers.

"Are you sure he can't hurt himself with this, Jack?", Bill asked and leaned forward a bit. "It doesn't look like a thing a child that age should play with."  
Jack tilted his head. "He could ram it down his throat", he admitted. "I wouldn't give it to him and leave him alone with it. But as long as he's just chewing it…"  
"And it won't splinter?"  
"Heavens, Billy, you act like yer mother", Jack said with an exasperated grin. "I carried the thing around with me for decades, and besides, Josh isn't the first one to misuse it in such a manner."  
Bill smiled slightly. "You mean you gave it to Imogen, too?"  
"Aye, it was that or have her chew on people's fingers. She loved to chew people's fingers, for it made such delightful funny noises." Jack grinned wryly and turned the needle in Josh's hands around again for he was, indeed, about to insert it lengthwise into his mouth.  
"Yes, some things run in the family", Jack said rather thoughtfully as he looked at Josh with a soft smile. "Funny, really, how some things are passed down the generations."

Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Bill, who likewise seemed slightly confused where Jack's sudden attack of melancholy had come from, and both watched Jack labour onto his feet with a grunt, Josh still in his arm. He handed the boy to Bill with a smile.

"Things like a trait, or a preference", Jack went on as he sat down and reached for a small pastry on the silver plate. Even Louise had now looked up and mustered Jack who hadn't taken his eyes of Josh. "Or something like a nose, or eyes… or a birthmark."  
"Jack?" Bill tilted his head and finally, Jack looked up and looked him straight in the face.  
"Lil Josh has a funny birthmark on the hip", Jack said and took a bite of the pastry. "Star shaped. Right here." He poked Josh exactly where the birthmark was, making the boy giggle at him before clamping his teeth around the needle again.

Bill gave Jack a long stare, slowly clenching his jaws, then slowly, looked over to his mother. "A birthmark."  
Elizabeth nodded. "Like the one you have, Billy."  
Bill looked back at Josh again. "Like the one I have. You do know that I swore that he is mine, don't you."  
"We do", Jack replied. "I've watched ye with the boy, Billy. Ye couldn't be more of a father to the lad even if ye knew beyond any doubt he was yours."  
Bill looked up again. "So what do you mean to tell me?"  
"That he is yours beyond doubt", Jack gave back slowly. "Your mother said he wasn't born a month early, neither."

His head jerking round, Bill stared at his mother and narrowed his eyes. She laid a hand on his arm and smiled softly.  
"He was far too well off for a child supposedly born a month early", she said. "He wasn't. He was born quite on time."  
Bill slowly lowered his gaze down again to the boy on his lap who was completely oblivious of the emotional upheaval he was causing.  
"You mean…"  
"Yes." Elizabeth nodded as he shot her a cautious glance. "He can't be Barbossa's."

Bill looked back at Josh again, slowly narrowing his brows. "It doesn't change anything", he said and Jack slowly leaned forward, looking at him in earnest.  
"Aye, we know that. That's why we tell ye. A shame would it be would ye love him more now. But we knew ye wouldn't. Ye're a good lad, Billy.  
Bill gave him a smile with a bitter twist around the corners of his mouth. "Aye, a good lad. A good man. Doubtlessly."  
"I wasn't…"  
"No, you weren't, Jack. It's what I am. Only by now, I tend to take a certain pride in it, in doing what I know is right. No use trying to twist myself into someone I'm not and won't ever be." He looked up again and smiled, a genuine smile. "But I thank you for letting me know."

Exchanging a glance with Elizabeth, Jack realised that by now, Bill truly had gotten over what had happened. He had been bitter and sad, and rightly so, of course. There was no doubt that he truly had loved Imogen, and had done things that had resulted in terrible mistakes. But he had also grown, and had developed an aspect of strength to his soul that was reassuring to see. Jack was sure that this was his mother's side coming through, a strange combination of his father's good soul with his mother's stubborn determination to cling to it.

"Is there a way we can let her know?", Bill asked suddenly, and Jack exchanged another glance with Elizabeth.  
"Why? She knows he's hers, and I'd dare say it'll only cause her further grief."  
"You're probably right", Bill said. "Still, I think… ach, I don't know." He wrinkled his brow as he looked down at Josh on his knees. "Don't you think she'd like to know it, Jack?"  
Jack shrugged. "I'm not too sure we should tell her", he said again. "I truly think it would only cause her pain."

Louise had watched all this, and listened to the conversation, with an unmoving face. Now, however, she suddenly spoke, in her soft, rolling accent that made her voice always sound as if she was more singing than speaking.  
"I think you should let her know", she said softly, looking first at Bill, then at Jack. "I know it would not make a difference, by god, I watched her parting from him. I thought she was killing herself, truly. But still." She shrugged and looked at Elizabeth, as if she hoped to find more understanding with another woman. "I think it would bring her relief to know that her child was a child of love, not rape."  
She fell silent again and stared down at her hands, and Elizabeth leaned over to place her hand around Louise's. "I think you are right", she said gently, and Louise looked up again. "Of course she will cry. But it will make her happy, I know it." She looked at Elizabeth again, then at Bill, and finally Jack. "It will help her put her ghosts to rest."

Jack gave Louise a long, thoughtful look, but even then realised he could only agree. "Very well", he finally said. "If this is what you think we should be doing, Lizzie, and Bill…" he looked back and forth between the two, and both nodded.  
"I think the best way would be to write a letter to van Huuiten, asking him to pass it on", Jack said then. "The trouble is finding a ship that goes to Curacao. I'll have to go to Tortuga for that, most likely."

But he could only agree, if it would help Imogen put at least one of her haunts to rest, then letting her know about this was the least he could do for her. To let her know that, indeed, she had returned the gift of life to him, like she had said.

x x x x x x x x

"You have to stress the second syllable, Captain", van Huuiten said and to illustrate his words, tapped with the tip of the quill on the word he was referring to. They were sitting at the small table in her room, opposite each other, the surface of the table covered in sheets of paper. Imogen tried it again, this time to his satisfaction. Yet despite that, she found it tremendously hard to concentrate.

She hadn't seen him for two days after she had come to him to listen and after that kiss that by now, seemed like she had only dreamed it. He had come into her room during the later evening on the third day, however, and had stiffly and formally folded his hands behind his back.

_"Captain Sparrow, I do apologize for not having come to see you earlier, I was occupied with pressing affairs. In fact, affairs regarding the unlucky incident that led to your being here."  
She finally turned around, for she had stared out of the window as he had knocked and had, at first, not really dared to face him.  
"No need to apologize", she said , trying to keep her voice steady. "I am completely confident in your abilities to prioritise, Governor."  
He twitched one corner of his mouth into a wry smile. "However", he said slowly. "Sometimes, I have to prioritise against my personal preferences."_

_Imogen felt her heart skip a beat and forced herself to remain calm, __yet he__ hadn't moved a muscle in his face.  
"In fact, I feel I should have come earlier, but things being as they are, you will have my apology now."  
Imogen blinked. "Apology? What for?"  
"This time, Captain, it has been me who has crossed a line he should not have crossed. And I doubtlessly have upset you greatly. Therefore, I do apologize."  
Not really trusting her ears, Imogen swallowed and slowly shook her head. "Governor, I…" She smoothed a few hairs back and took a deep breath. "I am as much to blame as you, if not more. It was me who intruded into your study, after all…"  
He tilted his head with a faint smile. "And it was me who invited you to stay. I think this is rather futile. But rest assured that it will not happen again, Captain."_

He had left her then, and come back the next day at the same time to resume with her language lessons as if nothing had ever happened.

And Imogen tried to tell herself that nothing had, but it was impossible. Even now, two weeks later, she found herself in a state of constant turmoil and for the life of her, she could not properly concentrate on the Dutch language on the sheets before her when her mind was so thoroughly occupied with a certain Dutchman... But of course, she did the best she could to hide that from him. With moderate success.

"Captain?"  
She blinked and swallowed. "Governor?"  
"Are you unwell?"  
"I… why?"  
He slowly tilted his head and raised his brows. "I found you staring into the empty air before you for quite a while now. Have I tired you?"  
"What? No…" Imogen hastily sat up more straightly. "I was just… distracted by my own thoughts."  
"Ah." He brought his eyes down to look at the paper again. "As I was saying, it is ik when you are referring to yourself and mijn when you are referring to something in your possession." To illustrate, he drew an arrow from the second word to the first.

Imogen nodded, staring at the paper, yet found herself, again, distracted, this time by his fingers. He wore a silver ring on the little finger of his left hand, a sapphire mounted in finely woven silver wire adorning the simple band.  
"Captain? What is it this time that distracts you?"  
She flinched and rubbed a hand across her eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I seem to be more tired than I thought."  
He looked at her silently for a while and then slowly leaned back. "In that case I shall leave it here, Captain, and come back tomorrow."

Imogen dropped her hand and rose as he got up.

"Despite your lack of concentration today, Captain, you are doing well", he said. "You seem to have a gift for languages."  
"Thank you, sir", Imogen gave back with a shy smile.

"And lest I forget", he went on. "I did speak repeatedly to van Dijk, and by now I am fairly sure that he was acting alone. Alone with van der Vegt, that is. So since he is taken care of and van der Vegt at present not here, you seem to be in no more danger, Captain."  
"Why, that is reassuring", Imogen said slowly.  
"Is something wrong with that, Captain?", van Huuiten replied, raising his.  
Imogen shrugged. "It's rather upsetting, to think of van der Vegt having stolen my ship again. He must have laughed all the way to Tortuga and probably still is."  
"His will not be the last laugh, I can assure you of that", the governor replied. "You can laugh at him all you want when you have the Albatross back."  
Imogen nodded thoughtfully.

"I do understand your distress", van Huuiten said after a moment of silence. "You have been incredibly unfairly treated and almost lost your life. I do understand that this is all going rather too slow for your liking, but with van Dijk being the man he is, I cannot jail him and hang him like a common criminal. He has made his point, Captain, and as sorry as I am, I cannot hold this against him, although I do, but only personally. What I can hold against him, however, is his attempt at smuggling. But that will be not as severely punished as you doubtlessly would like to see him punished."

Imogen shrugged again. What could she say? She had known all her life that there were two sets of laws in the world, in every land. One for the rich, and one for the poor.

"Truly, it gives me a headache every time I think about it", van Huuiten went on and suddenly looked at her again. "And I really would not mind if someone else could take care of that problem for me. But alas, there is only me here as a bringer or giver of justice."

Narrowing her eyes, Imogen stared at the governor, trying to figure out what he had meant with those words, exactly. Had she been imagining his lips twitch into the tiniest notion of a smile for the fraction of a second? And if not? She slowly lowered her lids, looking at him again, but there was not a trace of emotion on his face. She must have imagined this.

"I bid you a good night, Captain Sparrow", he said then and with a nod of his head, he left her standing there, still staring at the door long after he had left her.

After a while, Imogen slowly narrowed her eyes and smiled.


	16. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

It was past midnight and the harbour was still and silent. Hardly a sound was heard down at the pier with the city of Wilhelmstad peacefully asleep, unaware of the two figures silently striding down the main street towards the harbour.  
One was clearly a soldier, a captain of rank, armed with a bayonet and two pistols. The other figure was clad in a dark, hooded cloak, yet the parts of clothing that could be seen, had anyone actually seen it, were not any kind of uniform.

The two figures halted in the shadows of a warehouse when they reached the harbour, as if waiting for someone to come by. And indeed, not long after that a man came down the pier who had just disembarked from a ship that had arrived only a few hours ago.  
He was completely oblivious of the two figures lurking in the shadow of the warehouse entrance as he passed them by, and only when he heard steps behind him did he slow down and slowly turn around, unobtrusively checking the pistol in his belt. "Yes?"

"Captain Martin van der Vegt?", the soldier said, lowering his bayonet so the butt rested next to his foot.  
"The very same", van der Vegt replied. "What is it you want?"  
"He wants nothing in particular", a low voice came from the darkness to his left and van der Vegt turned around to see a figure in a dark cloak walking up to him, the hood completely shadowing his… her?... face. The voice had sounded vaguely female…  
"So?"

The figure stopped and slowly pushed back the hood, a tiny yet satisfied grin on her face as van der Vegt paled visibly, even in the dim light.

"Good evening, Mr Van der Vegt", Imogen said, switching to English. "Did you enjoy the journey?"  
"Who are you?", van der Vegt said in the same language. "Are you some kind of spirit that comes to haunt me?"  
"I could say the same about you", Imogen gave back coldly. "For every time you are somewhere near me, I seem unable to find my ship where I left it."  
Van der Vegt slowly crossed his arms and smirked. "Well, if you cannot properly care for your…" He broke off, for Imogen had suddenly thrust a pistol into his face, cocking it very slowly and deliberately.  
"You are arrested", she said with a cold and stony voice. "Do not move."

Holding his hands out before him, van der Vegt opened his mouth to say something and stumbled two steps backwards.  
"I said don't move!", Imogen snarled and pulled the trigger. The shot cracked through the night like the roaring of a cannon and the soldier beside her flinched as van der Vegt slowly fell over backwards, what was left of his face drawn into a grimace of shock.

Imogen slowly turned her head to look at the soldier who swallowed and stared straight ahead.

"He resisted arrest", he said with a blank face. "He tried to flee."

Imogen smiled.

x x x x x x x x

"Captain Sparrow…" van Huuiten said with a sigh of exasperation. I know well I did say use all means available to arrest him, but this outbreak of violence…" He looked up from his paper at Imogen who sat in the chair opposite his desk. "Was that really necessary?"  
"He resisted arrest", Imogen said with an unmoving face.  
The governor cocked one eyebrow.  
"He was trying to flee."  
Van Huuiten looked at his papers again and back at her. "He was shot straight in the face, Captain."  
Imogen shrugged. "Next time I shall wait until they do turn around."

"I was being serious, Captain." Van Huuiten narrowed his eyes. "And I would appreciate it if you would refrain from making any more tasteless jokes."  
"Sorry, sir." Imogen looked down at her hands again and the governor sighed.  
"I do know well that you have more than good reason to hate the man. But I ask you: Do you really mistrust me so much as to think me incapable of a fair and proper judgement?"  
Imogen bit her lower lip and shook her head. "No sir, I'm sorry. I did…"  
"You let your feelings of hate get the better of you", the governor finished for her, his voice more sad and, for some reason, disappointed, than angry. Imogen cringed inwardly at the notion of him being disappointed in her, but forced herself to straighten up and looked at him again.

"Revenge is mine, sayeth the Lord", van Huuiten said slowly.  
"I didn't want to wait that long", Imogen gave back.

Van Huuiten gave her a long, stern look, but this time Imogen held his gaze and did neither move nor budge. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the governor shook his head and looked at his papers again.  
"Well", he said. "I guess if all is said and done, it does save me the expense of having him in my jail and the time of holding a lawsuit over him." He scribbled something onto a sheet of paper and looked up at Imogen again with slightly raised eyebrows.  
"Oh, and in case you have not heard it yet", he said then after a while. "Arminius van Dijk has fallen victim to a tragic accident."  
"Has he?"

_He really was stupid enough to sleep with his bedroom window open. Slowly and silently, Imogen climbed up the wall, aided by the thick layers of vines, and pulled __herself__ up onto the balcony. He was asleep, and Imogen slowly pulled out her pistol. _

"Yes, indeed. Two nights ago, in fact."  
"I hadn't heard that, governor."  
Van Huuiten narrowed his eyes and Imogen smiled sweetly.

_"Arminius", she whispered into his ear. "Arminius, darling, wake up, my love."  
He mumbled in his sleep, but with a slow smile at the female voice calling him darling, he opened his eyes a crack. They widened in sheer terror, however, as he looked into the muzzle of a pistol instead of a pair of smiling eyes.  
"If you so much as breathe loudly you're dead."  
He mutely stared at her, eyes wide in fear.  
"Get up."_

_He followed her order, obviously not daring to make any sound or offer any kind of resistance.  
"You doubtlessly wonder why I am here", Imogen began jovially and poured a generous measure of brandy from the carafe on the nightstand into the glass beside it. "Well, I only came to see how you fare and tell you that you were __unsuccessful__ in trying to kill me", she added, handing the glass to him. __"Drink?"  
He took the glass with trembling hands and downed the contents in one go._

"The doctor says it was probably caused by too much drink", van Huuiten said thoughtfully. "Supposedly, he reeked of brandy when they found him."  
"What a shameful way to go", Imogen said. The governor shot her a glance and looked back at his paper again.

_"Have another one, you look rather strained", Imogen said, taking the glass off him and filling it again. "Relax. Do you think I'll shoot you in your own house? That's rather noisy, isn't it? I'd be found out and captured in an instant."  
He took the glass and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "So why the hell are you here, then?"  
Imogen smiled. "To let you know that I will not let you have a minute of peace again for the rest of your life, Arminius van Dijk."  
He downed the contents of the second glass, although the amount in it was even larger than the first time. He made a terrible face as he realised that and shook himself.  
"Have some fresh air", Imogen suggested, gesturing with the pistol towards the balcony. __"How about it?__ I'll gladly join you."_

"He suffered a fall", the governor went on with a wrinkled forehead. "It seems like the barrister of the balcony broke under his weight. It is quite a drop down there, his bedroom being on the second storey." He looked at her again and Imogen slowly folded her hands on her belly.  
"Well, if he was drunk, it's no one's fault but his own, now, isn't it?"  
The governor raised his eyebrows.

_As soon as van Dijk had stepped out onto the balcony, Imogen took the bottle of brandy and stepped out behind him. "Rather cool and pleasant night, is it not?__ she asked with a smile and took a swig out of the bottle, the pistol still primed on him in her other hand. She offered the bottle to him with a smile but he declined, shaking his head, Imogen shrugged and with a quick movement, thrust out the bottle and squirted brandy all over his face and front.  
"What the…" he began and Imogen dropped the bottle. But before van Dijk could say any more, she grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a heavy push, and since he was, by now, slightly drunk and panicking, he could do no more than flail his arms before he lost his balance and toppled over the railing with a wail. _

_Imogen took a step forward and looked down with a small and evil __grin,__ then kicked the wooden railing __forcefully__ a few times until the wood splintered. She then kicked a few of the splinters down and hastily climbed over the railing and down the wall, then jumped the last few feet down. Making sure no one had __seen__ her __yet,__ she slowly walked over to his corpse._

"He broke his neck", van Huuiten said slowly. "He was dead in an instant; Doctor de Beer could do nothing for him when he arrived. Tragic, really."  
"Tragic. What a shame, and him being such a valued member of society."  
"Are you mocking me, Captain?"  
"Governor van Huuiten, you hurt me", Imogen said. "De mortio nil nisi bene. Aye?"

_She looked down at van Dijk's corpse, but even as she felt the urge to plant her boot right into his face, she suddenly felt both her cheeks sting as if from two very hearty slaps. She swallowed and stepped back._

_...And this is for kicking an unconscious man..._

_She shook herself, but took another step back as she heard someone shout in the upper storey above her head. __"Rest in peace, van Dijk.__ Although I'd prefer you to burn in hell." Then she turned on her heel and vanished into the darkness of the garden._

He gave her a queer look that was a mixture of slight amusement and stern accusation. "I must admit the mixture of Latin and pirate lingo is a bit hard getting used to, Captain."  
Imogen grinned.

The governor looked at her, a long, stern and rather displeased stare. After a while, he cleared his throat and looked at his papers again, dipped his quill into the ink and signed something with a flourish. "I do remember I mentioned that I would not mind for this problem being taken care of for me", he said very slowly. "At least now, I can close the case. I guess it does save van Dijk the shame of being convicted as a smuggler and a collaborator with pirates."  
When Imogen chose not to reply, he looked up again and raised his eyebrows. "I guess that the end of this affair is one to your satisfaction, Captain, although law and order did not come to pass this time."  
Imogen tilted her head with a shrug. "I will sleep better, now that I know that neither of them does breathe the same air as me anymore."  
"Doubtlessly", van Huuiten gave back and shuffled a few papers around. "Ah, here it is."

Van Huuiten looked up again, this time with a tiny smile. "I received a letter today, Captain. A letter from Port Royal, to be precise."  
Imogen paled and swallowed. "Yes?"  
"It contained nothing more than a small message for me to pass this on", he said and handed her a small, sealed envelope. "To you."  
"To me?" She stared at the letter, and when he nodded, she hesitatingly reached out and took it. The seal bore a ship, and apart from her name, there was nothing on it.

She hastily got up and walked over to the window, completely forgetting where she was and in whose company. Yet the governor did not mention it and just followed her with his eyes as she broke the seal and unfolded the paper with trembling hands.

_Dearest Imi,_

_Sorry luv, but ye know I'm not good at sentimental stuff or at letters in general, so I'll keep it short._

_We did find out that Josh is, indeed, Billy's son. He has the same birthmark as Billy had when he was born, Elizabeth said so. She also said he was not born early, so he __cannot__ be Barbossa's. We love him no more for it, for he is a bonny little lad and a ray of sunshine, although presently he's more of a drizzle with him drooling so terribly due to the fact he's teething. _

_Thank you for giving him to us. He's a gift, in more than one way. But you know, don't ye. _

_Love,_

_Jack_

A strange transformation took place with her, her face paled visibly after a few lines, then she slowly brought her other hand up to her mouth, covering her lips.

Watching her with narrowed eyes, Lucas van Huuiten slowly got up himself and walked a few steps into her direction for surely, she looked as if she was about to faint. Her face had drained of all colour. "Captain?", he asked cautiously as she slowly lowered her hand holding the letter.  
She took a deep breath and looked at him, her face wet with tears. "Nothing", she said, and slowly started to smile at him through her tears. "Nothing." She wiped her face and stared at the letter again. "Nothing. Good news. Oh god… good news. I…"

She dropped the letter and covered her face with both hands, suddenly shaken by a sob. Completely taken aback, van Huuiten took another cautious step into her direction, his eyes falling on the letter as he did so. It was only a few lines short, and he flicked them over and swallowed himself. In his rather long and elaborating letter that Captain McGuyre had sent him a few months ago, asking him to be the godfather of his grandson, he had explained the whole and long story of Imogen's fate, so he knew what the letter was referring to.  
"Captain", he said again, taking another step. "Is there something I can do for you?"  
Imogen dropped her hands with a desperate sob and stared up at him. "No", she whispered hoarsely. "But thanks."

Looking down at her, he was still slightly shaken himself at how her countenance had so suddenly switched from her cool and slightly arrogant way to this, being completely shattered. He slowly reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.  
She still stared at him as he did so, but suffered this for no more than ten seconds before she took a step back. "Thank you", she whispered, staring up at him in desperation. "But I have to be alone."  
"Of course", he replied with a nod and folded his hands behind his back.

And with that, she turned around and left, and again, Lucas van Huuiten was left staring after her with a feeling of foolishness, only it was not as bad this time, for he truly had only meant to offer some kind of comfort. He slowly walked back to his desk, picking up the letter on his way.

Slowly and deliberately, he folded the letter again and placed it into a drawer of his desk to give it to her next time she would be in his office. He thought it wise, for more than one reason, not to seek her presence any more for the near future. But now that she had her ship back, she would soon be leaving, doing her duty at sea again. And thus, be far away from him which would greatly aid him in getting her out of his head.

She had no business being there.


	17. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The smoke of the cigars coiled slowly towards the ceiling and Jack watched it, enjoying the flavour and the smell of his newly acquired vice.

"So how is your family, Captain?" Watkinson leaned back into his armchair, crossing his legs.  
"Oh, very fine, thank you for asking, Mr Watkinson." Jack slowly sucked his cigar and exhaled the smoke slowly to savour the taste. "I never would have guessed I would enjoy married life so much."  
"What with sitting in a friend's house enjoying his hospitality?" Watkinson grinned.  
Jack returned the grin. "Once in a while, Mr Watkinson, once in a while."

"Captain McGuyre", Watkinson began again after a pause. "Have I told you that I have a dear friend in London who works in the royal archives?"  
"You haven't, Mr Watkinson. What about him?"  
"Oh, I am in regular correspondence with him about everything and anything, Captain McGuyre, and you know what he told me?"  
"I'm all ears, Mr Watkinson."  
Barristone and Greenwood leaned forward in their seats, as well.

Watkinson blew a large cloud of smoke. "That he knew of a Captain McGuyre, who hails from Northumbria."  
"The world's a small place, Mr Watkinson, and no mistake." Jack joined his own cloud of smoke into Watkinson's, watching the tendrils merge.  
"And you know what else he said?"  
"No?"  
Watkinson leaned forward and suddenly, Jack was aware of the kind of stare he was giving him. He leaned forward as well, slowly lifting his eyebrows. "Mr Watkinson?"

Watkinson blew another cloud of smoke. "That the Captain Jonathan Jacob McGuyre who worked for the East India Trading Company went down with his ship… more than thirty years ago." He lifted one brow and pointed with his cigar into Jack's direction. "And was never heard of ever since." He exchanged a glance with Barristone and then Greenwood who both bit down onto their cigars with unmoving faces.  
Jack slowly drew a rather large puff from his cigar and narrowed his eyes. "So? And what do you mean to imply with that?"

Watkinson leaned back and drew another cloud of smoke. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself and Jack slowly began cursing himself for being so unwary of the people he had surrounded himself with. "Oh, only how strange it is that there's two men with the same name. What a weird coincidence!" He grinned and Jack slowly leaned back, watching him as Watkinson got up and walked over to his bar. "Captain McGuyre", he began as he opened the doors of the cabinet that held his drinks. "Let me venture a guess."

_Oh god, now that sounds dreadfully familiar,_ Jack thought and slowly cocked one eyebrow, keeping his face as still as possible.

"You were quite a rascal in your younger years, weren't you?", Watkinson said with a wink and poured a measure of brandy in a glass. "But then, so was I. Takes one to know one, I guess." He turned around and offered Jack a glass. "Brandy?"  
"If you insist", Jack gave back with a small grin, not really sure if he had already heard the last of it.

Watkinson poured three more brandy, handed them round and slowly sat down again.

"You see", he began after taking a sip. "As a gentleman with a certain lifestyle you have to take care of your own, as I say. Don't get me wrong, Captain. I am a law abiding man, and the king's with heart and soul. Yet still…" He grinned and took another sip of his brandy. "Not always is it to a gentleman's heart's content what the laws say, be as they might from the king's own hands."  
Jack slowly leaned back, a smile spreading on his lips. "Oh, I do understand perfectly well, Mr Watkinson", he said and cast a glance at Barristone who sat beside him on the divan, then at Greenwood who inhabitated another armchair next to Watkinson.

"Now tax, for example", Barristone said slowly, sampling his brandy. "Tax is necessary, doubtless, and give to the king what belongs to the king, I say. But sometimes…"  
"Sometimes, the notion of what the king should have does not necessarily match your opinion of what you should give him", Jack finished slowly. Smugglers. He almost grinned.  
"Oh, I see we understand each other, Captain McGuyre." Watkinson lifted his glass and the other three gentlemen followed his example.  
"But alas, these times are over, for old age has caught up with us. The glory days are past." With these words, Watkinson downed his brandy and the other three followed his lead.

Again completely relaxed Jack slowly crossed his own legs, folding the right one over the knee of the left. "Well, don't they say you are as old as you feel?", he said slowly, looking around into the faces of the other gentlemen.  
"True enough", Greenwood said slowly. It was his first contribution to this particular topic, and Jack wondered if he, too, was, or rather, had been a smuggler. Most likely.  
"Oh, but to be young today", Greenwood went on. "I wouldn't want to be young today. No more rules, no more spirits. No more unexplored frontier." He shot Jack a glance and smiled thinly. "Isn't it so, Captain? You're a man of the sea, as well. In our days, now, that was something completely different. When a man of the sea was still free."  
Jack slowly brought his cigar to his lips and produced a rather large cloud that he watched with a very thoughtful gaze. "Oh yes", he said and dared a shot. "And we thought we should never die."  
"Hah, no", Greenwood went on, leaning forward as well with a glitter in his eyes. "But what is left of that?"

Jack shrugged with a grin. Leaning back in his seat, he couldn't believe his fate. Here he was, a gentleman of Port Royal's society, drinking expensive brandy and smoking even more expensive cigars in a round of other settled and elderly gentlemen. Four respectable gentlemen. Two old smugglers and two retired pirates.

"The olden days, they were", Greenwood went on. "And on comes a greenhorn like O'Brien, thinks he knows it all and knows it all better and what has it brought him?" He grinned and sucked his cigar. "Nothing", he snarled, due to the fact that he had his teeth clamped round it. "You showed him very nicely you've still got it, Captain McGuyre."  
Jack grinned. "Oh, I have no doubt that had it been you, Captain Greenwood, he would have ended up face down, as well."  
Greenwood snorted and took his cigar between forefinger and thumb. "By god, one can only hope you're right", he said with a tiny smile. "But I'd dare say that I, too, knew how to handle a shot quite well, in my younger years."

"Gentlemen", Watkinson said as he got up and fetched the carafe with the brandy. "Let me refill our glasses." He did so, pouring rather generous measures again and sat down afterwards, the carafe now beside his chair.  
"I want to say a toast", he said then, and the four of them slowly laboured out of the soft and comfortable seating facilities. "Gentlemen", Watkinson said. "To the olden glory days, that are not completely bygone, yet. And to friendship."  
"To friendship!"  
And the gentlemen downed their drinks in a manner that bespoke of many years of practise.

"And now…", Watkinson said as they had settled down again, "…call me Alan." He looked at Barristone.  
"Jonathan, as well, I'm afraid", Barristone said with a grin. "But I suspect we can find a way around that."  
Jack grinned. "Well, I ask you to use my middle name, then."  
"Jacob?" Watkinson grinned.  
"Jack. The short form of it."  
Greenwood leaned forward and shot Jack a glance under narrowed brows. "Jack as in…?"  
"Jack as in… Jack", Jack said with a bright grin. "Fairly easy, ain't?"  
"Jack", said Greenwood. "Horace."  
"Horace?"  
"Aye", Greenwood said and grinned. "Hoarse Horace." Then he laughed, and it was instantly clear whence that name had come from: his laughing sounded like two cobblestones grinding together. Jack had to grin as well. Hoarse Horace was a term that sounded vaguely familiar.

"Oh, the good old days", Watkinson said then after a while. "Although it was not always good. I remember I lost a shipload once…"  
"Who didn't!", exclaimed Barristone.  
"I won a few", Jack said smoothly and stared into his cigar smoke with a dreamy expression. "I remember this one day I encountered a brigantine that was bound for Florida. Hah, she had her hull filled to the brim with bayonets, rifles and pistols."  
Watkinson leaned forward and very slowly narrowed his eyes. "That was you?" Jack's grin froze a bit as if it was suddenly scared to be so exposed and alone on Jack's face with Watkinson staring at him under narrowed brows. "I lost a bloody fortune that day!"  
Jack shrugged with a slightly strained grin. "Well, the contraband did pay for eight new cannons on me ship", he said in a slightly apologetic voice and Watkinson suddenly burst out laughing.

"Ah, old stories", he said with a chuckle. "Later on I learned that it was all the better, for I had been given away and the navy was already waiting for my ship in Florida Keys… which never arrived!" He grinned at Jack. "I could say you saved my live that day!"  
"Glad to have helped", Jack said with a glittering grin and Watkinson chuckled again.  
"Brandy?"  
"If you insist…"  
"To your health, Jack."  
"To yours, Alan."

They toasted and drank, and Watkinson filled all four glasses up again. "You know what", Watkinson said then. "Rumours and all that. For here I heard later that it had been none other than the famous, infamous Jack Sparrow that had plundered my contraband."  
"Captain Jack Sparrow", Jack said without thinking and swallowed with a strained grin as three heads flew around and three pairs of eyes stared at him.  
"He was a character, Captain Jack Sparrow", Jack said with a bright smile and crossed his arms. "I knew him faintly."

"Yes, he could not be mistaken for someone else", Greenwood said slowly. "He had a pirate brand on his left wrist, had he not?"  
"He had", Jack said and flicked both his hands outward as if to say he had only a faint idea about the whole affair, thus exposing the skin of his left wrist for everyone to see. Following the other gentlemen's gazes he stared at his own left wrist and shrugged with a grin. "Now that's only a rope burn."  
"Nasty stuff, rope burns", Greenwood said after a small, pregnant pause. "Gives you terrible scars, really. Have a few myself."  
"And rather unpleasant", Jack said in a rather non-committing voice.

Into the silence that followed, Watkinson suddenly broke out into a hearty laugh. "Hah, will you look at us", he snorted. "A round of elderly, ageing gentlemen of fortune, dreaming about the famous Captain Jack Sparrow being among them. As if we were no better than little boys dreaming of piracy!" He held out the bottle. "Brandy?"  
Three glasses were extended into his direction and he filled them generously before filling his own. The level in the carafe was sinking rather fast.

"But honestly, Captain…" Barristone began who obviously could not let the matter rest. "Are you…?"  
"Tell me, John", Jack began with a jovial grin. "Is a truth you know better than a truth you don't?"  
Barristone raised his eyebrows.  
"I mean do you want to know even if it could destroy a pleasant dream?"  
"Well…" Barristone took a cautious sip and looked at his cigar as if wondering how it had got there.

"Now", Jack began. "My lady said I am an old acquaintance of her late, former husband."  
"She did", Barristone said. "Said husband who had, together with her, had this tremendous strange adventure all those years ago with the pirates, and all…"  
"Aye", Greenwood fell in. "On the Black Pearl."  
"Jack Sparrow's ship", Watkinson added.  
Jack grinned and sucked at his cigar. "Captain… Jack Sparrow", he said slowly with a savoury grin.

A rather long silence followed.

"I'll be damned", Watkinson said.  
"I doubt it", Jack replied.  
"Brandy?"  
"If you insist…"


	18. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Imogen watched her men disembark with a faint smile on her face. Eager to get into the nearest brothel or tavern, they walked down the plank, laughing, joking, grinning, and Imogen felt a sudden stab of relief as she realised that she had no doubts whatsoever any more that every single one of them would be back within a few days.  
She couldn't even say what had caused this feeling, it was just a kind of reassurance that she felt, as if by now, when she herself finally had mastered some degree of loyalty, she was able to induce it in someone else. It was a rather strange feeling... but a pleasant one.

"Capt'n?"  
She slowly turned around. "Niels?"  
"Are you coming?"  
Imogen shook her head. "I don't feel like drinking, Niels. Go with the lads and amuse yerself. I'll see ye in a couple of days."  
Henningsen gave her a long, thoughtful look, then shrugged and turned around to follow the men down the pier towards the harbour where light was spilling invitingly out of the windows of the countless taverns and brothels at the quay.

No, she didn't feel like drinking. She felt like being alone, more than anything else. Walking down the stairs to deck and rounding the helm to stand at the bow, Imogen tried to figure out what exactly was wrong with her. Yet when she stopped at the stern and leaned against the railing, she found herself stare at the outline of the upper part of the city.  
No, there was no question where she'd rather be, if she was being honest with herself. And by now, she was in no state to be able to lie any more, not even to herself.

She could have slapped herself. But it wouldn't change anything, not the feeling of miserableness nor the feeling of longing, and certainly not the heart-racing, gut-wrenching misery that overcame her every time she remembered that thrice cursed and fateful kiss. Which she remembered far too often.  
Should she have stayed? Should she just have ignored the warning that her mind had been screaming at her and kiss him again?

And then?

He had made it all too clear the next time she had seen him that it wouldn't happen again and had acted as if it, indeed, had never happened. But she couldn't suppress the nagging feeling that a man such as him did not unintentionally kiss someone, losing control of himself so completely as to…  
She slowly straightened up and let her head fall back, staring into the stars above.  
He had not lost his control. He had asked her, for god's sake! He had asked her permission to kiss her, and she had first given it, and then fled from him as if he were the devil's own little brother. No wonder he had so endeavoured to act as if nothing had happened. And yet, he had not seemed to bear any kind of grudge against her.  
She snorted softly. He had given her an oath he wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't show her how upset he was. If he was upset. Wasn't he?

_Can I look into people's heads?_ She clenched her jaws in anger. _Of course I can't. Then why do I act as if I could, __making__ up all sorts of nonsense that he could have thought?_

Because she felt the pressing, urging need to distance herself from him.  
Because she could not bear the memory of how he had looked at her, before and after he had kissed her.  
Because the way he had looked at her was so clearly and unmistakably plain in its meaning that she could not deny it, try as she might.

But why, why on earth and on sea and in all holy heavens, why, and how, could a man such as him fall in love with her?  
_A fancy,_ she thought. _I am an irritating fancy, and no doubt he is more fascinated by the attraction he feels for me than by my sorry self. What is it I could offer to a man as him? A man like him doesn't fall in love with someone like me._

She ran her hands across her face. And she?  
She? Her own feelings?  
Now, with no one there any more, with no one around but her and her own thoughts, what was it that she felt?  
She wasn't sure. She was only sure of one thing: That she had never, ever felt this way before. She had never kissed a man as gently as that and felt her body being devoured in a flash fire of emotion, nonetheless.

And even still… even though that kiss had caused so much… desires, there, she had thought it, even though, never, ever had she looked at a man and so much felt the urge to just…  
She threw her arms around herself and, closing her eyes, let her body slowly sink down on deck and rested her back against the railing.  
Never had she felt the urge to just bury her face in his shoulder and have his arms around her, nothing else, as if there, in his arms, was the ultimate promise of safety and peace. And she had no words for how much this feeling scared her.

But it was not hers to take, anyway. It was a promise that hovered out of her reach, like the forbidden fruit that was hanging just, by less than an inch, too high for her. She could not have him. Whatever she felt, whatever she might want, she could not have him.

There was no way that a man such as he was could feel more than a fleeting fancy for such as her, caused maybe by the way she had reacted to his music and by the fact she had told him he had saved her life. Touched, maybe. Attracted, maybe, for she liked to think of herself as fairly good-looking. But to actually feel something for her, uneducated, uncivilised, ill-mannered as she was? Never. It wasn't going to happen.

"It's not going to happen", she whispered to herself and let her head fall back against the railing again. "The stars would rather shine at noon."

They glittered above her now, almost mocking her despair in their twinkling, glittering prettiness. And tomorrow, she would go and see him again, endure that silver stare of his and pretend nothing was amiss, while the lines on her face after all those sleepless nights would clearly be telling her thoughts to anyone who would care to look at them.  
And he wasn't one to oversee even the most minor detail.

She dreaded the morning. The light at the horizon brought her no relief.

x x x x x x x x

"Ah, Captain Sparrow. I bid you a good morning."  
"The same to you, Governor."  
"Please, take a seat."  
"Thank you, sir."

Imogen sat down slowly, slightly confused by the governor's seemingly good mood. He was almost smiling at her. Unable to look at his face, she stared at his hands instead, slender, elegant hands for a man, and felt herself hide her own calloused hands and bitten nails in her lap. Forcing herself to concentrate, she finally looked up again.

"Captain Sparrow", van Huuiten began, picking up a sheet of paper. "If the story is true, then your most esteemed father did once plunder Nassau. Right?"  
Slightly confused, Imogen blinked. "He did. What about it?"  
Van Huuiten leaned back in his chair. "Let me start my explanation at the beginning, for I seem to have taken you unawares." He picked up the sheet of paper again to flick over the writing with his eyes. "I have received this a couple of days ago, it is a request made by the Dutch West India Trading Company."  
He put the paper down and looked at Imogen with a faint trace of a smile. "The company has, in fact, contacted me, and the honoured governor of St Eustatius, to assist them in their endeavour to secure the hold of the Dutch empire on the colonies. What they need, Captain, is another base further up north."  
Imogen slowly crossed her arms. "Nassau."

Van Huuiten twitched a corner of his mouth. "I knew I could rely on your sharpness to see through this at once, Captain. It saves me much explanation. Yes, it is Nassau we want."  
"We?"  
The governor slowly folded his hands on the table. "The company, Captain, is acting in the interest of the Dutch Empire. I am acting in the interest of the Dutch Empire. And since you work for me..."  
"I am acting in the interest of the Dutch Empire, as well", Imogen finished for him with slightly narrowed eyes. "So far, so good. You are aware of the fact, though, that I only have a barque and thirty-three men to my disposition, I gather." It wasn't a question and she hadn't intended it to sound like one.

Van Huuiten smiled faintly. "I certainly am, Captain. And the company has provided us with the financial means of equipping another ship with men and weapons to aid you. The ship that is, in fact, lying in the harbour of Wilhelmstad right now, waiting for her flagship to take her to Nassau."  
Imogen blinked a few times. "Flagship?"  
"Of course. Every convoy needs a flagship, no matter how small, even if it consists only of two ships. So there is the Petronella, a brigantine, armed and ready, and she is waiting for her flagship."

Imogen slowly tilted her head and thrust out her chin.

"The Albatross", van Huuiten said slowly and Imogen took a deep breath.  
"Let me get this straight", she said. "You are giving me another ship to command, and are sending me to conquer Nassau for you."  
"Precisely."  
"You do know that I am not a woman of any military experience?"  
"I do. Yet I know you to be a woman of many resources."

They silently stared at each other for a while.

"Through English, Spanish and French waters, to conquer an English colony. With two ships."  
"Nassau has hardly more than three hundred inhabitants and practically no defences."  
"Governor", Imogen said slowly, leaning forward. "This is a suicide mission."  
Van Huuiten slowly leaned forward as well, all amusement gone from his face. "Captain, if you choose it to be one, then it certainly is. Yet you could also see it as a challenge."

Imogen took a deep breath and leaned back again. "And the second ship?"  
"Will carry a small military force and a man who has volunteered to become the new governor of Nassau, should you succeed."  
"And if I don't?"  
"Then the Petronella will make utmost haste back to Curacao and the harbour of Wilhelmstad."  
She slowly crossed her arms again. "I don't like this."  
The governor narrowed his eyes. "You do not have to like it, Captain. You only have to do it." His last few words had been slightly pressed, as if he was biting down his anger at her.

Swallowing heavily, Imogen reached out for the leather-bound document he was holding out to her. "Aye, sir."  
"I knew I could rely on you, Captain."  
She didn't answer and stowed the document away in her vest.  
"I do sincerely hope your mission will be blessed with success, Captain Sparrow."  
"I guess you do", Imogen said, trying to keep her anger from her voice. "There's a lot at stake here, a base, two ships, and a new governor. Not to mention the soldiers." She got up and looked van Huuiten squarely in the eyes. "The pawn...", she said slowly, "...is on its way."  
Van Huuiten cocked his eyebrows. "The pawn can be the decisive tool in reaching the success you aim for, Captain."  
"Or an unnecessary piece that can be sacrificed and where the loss of it is nothing more than a minor nuisance." Imogen picked up her hat and watched his face, but there was not a twitch belying any emotion. _Of course not,_ she told herself. _There is none._

"Oh, do not doubt that you are necessary, Captain", van Huuiten said smoothly and Imogen cocked one eyebrow. "But just because you are necessary does not mean you are important. There is a fine difference." He smiled faintly, and Imogen gritted her teeth, then took a deep breath.  
"I understand", she said slowly, straining to keep her voice under control. "I bid you a good day. I will see you in a few weeks." She turned around and headed for the door. "Or not."  
"Captain..." van Huuiten said behind her, but she chose to believe he was just acknowledging her words. Almost slamming the door behind her, she left and rammed the hat on her head.

So this was what she finally got. Becoming a pawn in the game of other people. Sacrificing herself, her ship and her crew.  
It seemed he had gotten faster and more efficiently over his fancy for her than she would ever be able to get over him. Good on him. But she felt a stinging taste of bitterness in her mouth at the memory of his words and the feeling of resentment and reject that he had, again, all but spat into her face.

Yet she couldn't say what it was that stopped her, at this point, from forgetting about the letter of marque and turning back to piracy again.

x x x x x x x x

"Captain..." Lucas van Huuiten began, but she was already through the door before he was halfway out of his chair. He fell back and stared at the door that she had slammed behind her, swallowing heavily.

This time, he had gone too far. In his desperate attempt of distancing himself from her, he had, seemingly, been more successful now than he had ever intended. The last look she had given him had been blank and unmasked, rage-fuelled hate.

He stared down at his hands. It did serve him right for being so thoughtless. In his attempt to separate the woman from the captain, he had completely overseen the fact that this was, for good reason, impossible to her. As it was impossible for him. She was whom she was, no more, and no less. And this was what he got for trying to prick her apart into something she wasn't and could never be.

And maybe it was better like that. The kiss had been an utterly foolish, terrible mistake that, under no circumstances, should ever repeat itself. No matter how...  
He sighed heavily. No matter how many nights he had lain sleepless, staring at the memory of her face, looking up at him with her lips slightly parted while her eyes slowly closed.

Of course, she was right. Of course, it was madness. Of course, it could never work.  
He had told her it would never happen again.

And now, that he had so thoroughly succeeded in distancing himself from her, now that he had made sure it would never happen again, did it make him feel any better? Things would be much easier now with the constant distraction gone. The memories would fade. Eventually. Hopefully.

Easier. But better...?

How could he, a man in his position, and who had worked so hard to get into this position, to boot, could be so completely slave to his feelings that he did not care anymore about any sense of decency or propriety? He couldn't even begin to answer this. The feelings of propriety seemed strangely elusive when he thought about something as simple as taking her into his arms again, as if he could shield her from any more pain than had already befallen her.

But that would never happen now. For he himself had now inflicted another pain in her in that he had treated her as if she meant nothing to him. No help and no comfort was the realisation that the same pain he had inflicted on her, he had inflicted on himself, as well.  
For she would never know that, now.

No. No matter how much he tried to lie to himself. It wasn't better like this. He still stared at the door, and slowly said one single, heartfelt word in a toneless, lifeless voice.

"Fool."


	19. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Sometimes, Imogen was sick beyond words to express it of being stared at as if she was a weird kind of attraction in an opanopticum. Like just now, as she walked up the plank onto the Petronella. Some of the sailors aboard literally dropped whatever they had been doing to stare at her, and she could even hear two or three sniggers.  
The soldiers aboard didn't move, of course, but that didn't stop them from staring. With clenched jaws, Imogen walked across the deck where she met with the captain who bowed stiffly to her. "Captain Sparrow?"  
"At your service."  
He indicated to the door leading into his cabin and she followed him, removing her hat as he closed the door behind her.

A distinguished gentleman was standing at the table dominating the room, seemingly lost in concentration as he studied the large map spread out there. He looked up, however, when the captain introduced her.  
"Ah, Captain." He nodded. "Eusebius de Baanstedt." He looked her over, a long glance with slightly pursed lips, as if she was not only filthy but also undressed. There was no mistaking his distaste as he looked at her, yet Imogen swallowed her anger and bowed.  
"Captain van Rijmenant", de Baanstedt said. "Please be so kind as to fill... Captain Sparrow in with the debate about the course."

Van Rijmenant nodded and waved Imogen over and the three of them leaned over the map. It was a map of the Caribbean Sea, Terra Firma to the south, the Gulf of Mexico and Florida to the North West.

Although Imogen was not completely fluent, her Dutch was by now sufficient for her to partake in the conversation which otherwise would have been a humiliation she really could do without, and she was very glad at this moment that van Huuiten had insisted on teaching her.

"We wondered", van Rijmenant began. "If we should, rather than going via the Jamaica Channel and the Windward Passage, go round Cuba, through the Yucatan Channel, past Florida and the Florida Channel. A less dangerous passage as there a far less ships there in those waters." He shot her a long glance and Imogen narrowed her eyes. Did he really think her that stupid?

She placed her finger on the map, on Curacao. "And what if we go up north?", she said smoothly. "Through the Mona Passage between Puerto Rico and Hispaniola, pass Hispaniola on the north and along the Mayaguana Passage..." Her finger trailed the route. "Crooked Island Passage and past the Tongue of the Ocean. If we go through the Yucatan Channel, I'd dare say we have to fight ill winds as we will have to cross against the main wind direction, and past Havana, at that, which is a fortified city and boasts lots of traffic."  
She straightened up again with a tiny smile as the two men exchanged a glance. Van Rijmenant nodded, de Baanstedt shrugged, and van Rijmenant addressed Imogen again. "Very well. It does make more sense, Captain. We will follow your lead."

Imogen raised her brows but said nothing. She obviously had passed the first test, yet she doubted it would be the last. She looked at de Baanstedt again. "What are your instructions once we reach Nassau?"  
"We will lay behind and wait for you to take care of Nassau's first line of defences. We will then land and join you in the fight."  
Join her in the fight. She would be the battering ram to open the gates. And the first to receive a load of boiling pitch on her head, as well. " What do we know about Nassau's defences?"  
"Not much", van Rijmenant said.  
"They are not much or we know not much?"  
The captain gave her a thin smile. "They are not much. We will expect no great resistance."  
Imogen nodded and picked up her hat again. "Your word in god's ear, Captain."

She turned to leave, but as she reached for the door, de Baanstedt hailed her again. She turned, to find him walking up to her with a bundle in his hands, his face slightly sour, as he obviously had not reached van Huuiten's masterly skill of keeping his face a neutral mask.b"I was instructed to give this to you."  
She took the bundle with a cocked eyebrow. It was soft, just some cloth, and as she flipped the covering material away at a corner, she had to smile. Yet it was far from happy.  
"I am honoured. I guess."  
She bowed again and left the cabin, keeping her back straight and her eyes cast forward as she walked across the deck and left the Petronella.

The orders were clear. But she couldn't for the life of her explain why van Huuiten would have ordered de Baanstedt to give the Dutch flag intended for Nassau to her.

She met Henningsen on the pier, in attendance of twelve men who lingered around him as if they didn't quite know what they were doing there.  
"Niels."  
"Capt'n." He gestured around him at the men. "All I could find."  
"It'll have to do." She looked them over. Most of them looked like worthy salts, capable of following orders and stand their ground in a scratch. She gestured with a flick of her head towards her ship. "Welcome aboard."

The men, Henningsen in the rear, followed her onto the Albatross.

x x x x x x x x

Two days after Imogen had left Curacao, a ship arrived in the harbour of Wilhelmstad, a mail runner from Amsterdam carrying documents for the governor, amongst others.

It was then, as Lucas van Huuiten had broken the seal of the official document addressed to him from highest authorities back in the homeland, that for the first time in so many years he couldn't quite remember when last it had happened, he was not only feeling foolish but utterly furious with himself.

Furious with himself and with the fate that had delayed the letter so, for it was dated exactly the same as the letter with the request to conquer Nassau that had been sent to him by the Dutch West India Trading Company. It had been held up, due to ill winds, slow clerks, whatever, and had reached him two days too late.

For the letter was nothing other than a general amnesty on all Dutch soil, offered to Captain I. Sparrow, clearing the name of all decrees of piracy, and it was signed by Wilhelm III van Nassauen-Oranje in person. A reward for the merit and bravery in saving Captain Uettersen and his ship, and for bringing not only an English pirate but also his letter of marque to the attention of the Dutch authorities.

Shaking his head in frustration, Lucas van Huuiten stared at the letter, wishing, for once, that he really could not trust his eyes. It certainly would not have changed the fact that he had sent her to Nassau. But it would most definitely have changed the course of their last conversation.

_But just because you are necessary does not mean you are important..._

He kept staring at the document with a stony face.

_I will see you in a few weeks. _

Two days.

_Or not._

He slowly got up, walked over to the window and crossed his hands behind his back as he cast his eyes out across the harbour and the bay, resting them on the horizon.

x x x x x x x x

The way up north, even though they crossed the main English shipping route between the Caribee Islands to the east and Jamaica to the west, was quiet and uneventful. The men of the Albatross, however, suffered from a slightly strained mood due to the two soldiers that were aboard Imogen's ship, equipped with flags to communicate orders between the Albatross and the Petronella.

They had gotten used to them, however, after they had crossed the Mona Passage west of Puerto Rico. As Imogen set course west-north-west to head for the Mayaguana Passage leading through the tricky waters north of Tortuga, the two soldiers were seen more and more often without their stiff uniform coats, dicing with the sailors, in the founded hopes that they wouldn't be given away to their superiors.

More days went past as uneventful as the first part of the journey until one day, as they were north of the island of Great Inagua, the man in the crow's nest announced another sail at the horizon, coming for them from the north. Narrowing her eyes, Imogen took out her spyglass and searched the horizon, and after a while, could indeed spot the sail. And the flag: a Jolly Roger. Again.  
Not that she hadn't almost expected to run into pirates up here. The passage was flanked by countless little islands that pirates used as hideouts, a fact she knew all too well. She herself had lain here often enough, waiting to ambush a ship coming from the Windward Passage heading for Florida. It almost seemed like another life, now. Maybe it was.

"Bloody pirates", she muttered under her breath which earned her a completely blank stare from Henningsen who happened to be within hearing range. Sensing his eyes on her, Imogen slowly turned and flashed him a narrow grin. He shrugged with a grin himself and bent down to continue his work, coiling up a rope.

"All hands alert!", Imogen called out across deck. "There's a pirate ship coming for us from the north!" She turned around. "Ter Jung!"  
One of the two soldiers jumped up to attention and hastily straightened his coat. "Pirate vessel from the north. Signal that to the Petronella!"  
Picking up his flags, ter Jung headed for the portside railing and waved the flags three times over his head until he saw a responding signal coming from the Petronella following them.

As soon as ter Jung had related the message, the Petronella changed course and headed straight for the Albatross to catch up. And as soon as she was within less than a hundred yards distance, the pirate vessel suddenly changed course, turning straight around. Imogen watched her with narrowed eyes, but it only took a few minutes for her to disappear behind the horizon again.

Imogen slowly looked around at the Petronella who had by now caught up with them and told ter Jung to ask them if they had seen the pirate ship.  
They had. And van Rijmenant had his man add that they had seen the odds were against them with two ships and thus fled.  
Imogen watched the northern horizon with a strange feeling she couldn't quite name. Before, she had always been at the other end of the line, at the receiving end of this. Seeing a ship, preparing for the onslaught, only to discover then that it was a convoy and draw back again.  
But actually being the convoy... now that was, again, a new experience. And, to be honest, quite a pleasant one.

As little as she cared for van Rijmenant's and de Baanstedt's company, had she been alone, she would have had to flee for her live. A barque had no chance against a brigg, especially not if the brigg was fully armed and had an empty hull, in which case even fleeing would be a matter of luck and skill, less of speed.  
So van Rijmenant and his ship had been at least this once useful to them, of whatever use they could or would be later on.

x x x x x x x x

They had passed the Crooked Island Passage and were now cruising north along the Tongue of the Ocean, well to the north of Cuba in the heart of the Bahamas, and it would only be a matter of hours before they would reach their destination. By now, she knew, it would be time to fill in her men with more detail of what was going to happen. Calling out for Henningsen to take the wheel, Imogen yelled orders across the deck for all her men to gather there.  
When the whole crew was assembled on deck around the main mast, Imogen crossed her arms, looking down from the helm at the forty-five men who were following her orders.

"Right", she began. "Listen up, and listen well, for I don't care to repeat my orders or any kind of explanation."  
The men shuffled into silence.  
"You know we've been send to capture Nassau." She looked across the faces, and a few men nodded. No one seemed surprised. "The details are simple", Imogen went on. "We're to be the battering ram. The Albatross will sail in, breaching the defences. We will land first, leading the attack. The Petronella will follow, and her men will join us."

She let these words sink in, seeing on the faces of her men the same feelings of slight dismay, anger and indignation that she had felt, and still did. She smiled grimly. "Listen up." Slowly and deliberately, she walked down the stairs on deck, standing before her men.

"I didn't volunteer for that, I was ordered into this, the same way you have been. We're cannon fodder. I'm not going to lie to ye. We're cannon fodder 'cause we're replaceable, necessary mayhap, but unimportant. We're the dogs sent into the den to chase out the fox."  
She grinned darkly and opened her arms. "But by god, I tell ye, if we're dogs, we'll show them what bastards we can be. They send us to get Nassau? We'll get them Nassau, and then let them snub their noses at us!" She started pacing back and forth, staring at her men, and realising as she did so that the faces looking back at her had all turned grim, showing her fierce determination.

"Stinking mongrels, just about good enough to do the dirty work", Imogen went on. "Maybe they even hope they'll get rid of us that way, and I say to you now: I don't intend to do them that particular favour!"  
Some of the men muttered, some grunted, and Imogen felt a fierce and slightly evil grin spread on her face. "By the sea, you all know what a bitch I can be and if I have to, I can chase a fox out of the den, well enough. And if ye dirty bastards are willing to follow a bitch, then we'll all show them where they can put themselves!"  
The voices answering her were louder now, she could hear a few "ayes" and "yays" and some rumblings about snobby bastards. "We'll show them what we're worth!"  
Some fists were shaken.  
"We'll dig the bloody fox out and drop it at their feet! Maybe they'll catch a few of our fleas in return! But by god, I'd rather die than stand back ashamed for what I am!"

She stopped pacing and waited for her men to fall silent again.

"We're not worth anything to them. But by the hells, we're worth something to us! We're not going to let ourselves be sacrificed by them! They've given us their flag and still treat us like we're dirty scum floating in the harbour, but now we'll show them what we're worth! And the only way to do that is to win! So don't get yerselves killed ye bastards, and that was an order!!"

She jumped back up the stairs onto the helm. "And now get yer arses moving! ", she screamed. "Full canvas, ye bloody scallywags! All hands on battle stations, and be quick about it!! Hoist the colours!"

And with a hail of ayes, the men broke out into action and flurried across the deck, the topsails unfurled and the Albatross leaned into the wind, changing course to straight north, for Nassau. Taking the helm from Henningsen with a grin, Imogen watched the deck with a feeling of deep satisfaction.

"Capt'n?"  
"Niels?"  
He smiled. "Zat was razer impressive."  
She raised her eyebrows. "Was it?"  
"I've never seen someone call a bunch of pirates dirty bastards and live" He grinned wryly. "And even make zem feel proud wiz it and hail him for it..."  
Imogen grinned back. "To each his own", she said. "Or to her."  
And as he looked across the deck, Henningsen had to admit that somehow, all of a sudden, that was what they were. Her men. And she, their captain.

And Imogen had felt and seen it too, by the way she smiled across the deck as she steadied the wheel. This was where she belonged.


	20. Chapter 18 Interlude

**Chapter 18 – Interlude**

Albatross

Well I'm feelin' left behind,  
Lord what a waste of time  
They're coming to get you, run on  
How can I respect your crime  
When all you criminals whine  
They bought and sold you, run on, run on

You can call me crazy  
You can call me wrong  
Cause I was born a liar  
Albatross fly on, fly on

My home is kind,  
Man it pays to be blind  
I promise to forget you, run on  
No swallowed pride,  
No conspiracy lined  
Broken promise of the virtue, run on, Lord run on

You can call me lazy but I know where I belong  
Cause I was born a liar  
Albatross, fly on, fly on  
With your trust in love from your God above...

I believe the Albatross is me...

You can call me lazy  
You can call me wrong  
Cause I was born a liar  
Albatross, fly on, fly on

I should have seen the signs  
Now the memories far behind  
It was no big loss,  
Fly on, Albatross

_b__y__ Corrosion of Conformity_

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According to Wikipedia, this song was inspired by a passage from the ballad "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" in which an albatross plays a major role.


	21. Chapter 19

Author's note: Recommended soundtrack for this chapter and the next one: the album **Wishmaster**, by Nightwish. Great pieces of art, every single song. Oh and in case you wonder, the style of music is called "Symphonic Metal". And it is as grand as it sounds.

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**Chapter ****19**

Riding the waves with fully billowed sails, the Albatross held straight north, aiming for the bay that shielded Nassau from the currents of the ocean.

_Their defences are not much._

Imogen narrowed her eyes with a tight-set face. But they were there. When she neared the coastline and slightly changed course to draw into the bay, she could see low mounds, stretching into the bay on either side of the shores. Foundations of fortifications. They had started to dig themselves in, and Imogen knew she had no chance of avoiding whatever would be stationed behind them, aiming for her ship.

"Alert!", she shouted across deck. "Prepare for defences!"  
Low structures behind the mounds seemed to be shacks or roofs of huts. Was there something in them? "Henningsen!"  
"Capt'n!"  
She tossed him her spyglass and took hold of the wheel again. "What's behind the mounds?"  
He brought the glass to his eyes and had a look around, then almost dropped it. "Latches! Latches in ze mounds!"  
Imogen cursed. "CANNONS READY!"

The winds were on their side. The Albatross was cruising along with such a speed that the first salvo coming from the mounds missed. Imogen counted six shots.

Wrenching the wheel around, forcing the Albatross into a tackle that made the whole ship groan, Imogen presented the broadside to the latches and gripped the spokes so hard her knuckles went white.  
"FIRE!"  
A whole broadside hit the mounds, and huge clouds of dirt, sand and splintered wood exploded into the air as the six cannon balls hit the mound with a thundering roar. Imogen wrenched the wheel around again to remove the Albatross out of reach of the enemy canons.  
When the defenders send them another salvo, only two shots were aimed at them, but the Albatross was fast enough and they fell harmless into the water behind her.

"CANNONS READY!" The same manoeuvre again, cruising in, steep tackle, and fire.

The second salvo thundered into the mound, and this time, no reply came back. With a silent, but heartfelt curse, Imogen turned the Albatross again, asking herself how strong the defences and the number of troops in Nassau truly were and how many she had now managed to get rid of already.  
Henningsen came running up to the helm now, Imogen's spyglass still in his hand. He handed it back to her as he took a deep breath. "A small fort in ze harbour, Capt'n. Dare say zey've got cannons, as well."  
Imogen narrowed her eyes. "So we can't land in the harbour."  
"Looks like it."  
A frustrated grunt escaped her lips as she stared at the silhouette of Nassau, almost within reach. But it would be indeed suicide if they tried to land under the nose of an armed fort. "Damn it all to hell!"

There was no way they couldn't have heard the shots, and by now, they were on alert, the cannons manned and the men armed and ready.

"All hands ready to shore!", she screamed. "Arm yourself! Hooked ropes! Down with the main sails!!" And with these words, she wrenched at the wheel again and ran the Albatross ashore, the keel crunching loudly into the sand beneath her hull. Less than a half a mile lay between them and Nassau to the north.

"Listen up!", Imogen yelled as she shrugged off her coat and tied the belt around her black leather vest tighter. She jumped down the stairs from the helm to deck and pulled her sabre. Henningsen followed her, equipping himself with two sets of pistols. He handed one of them to Imogen who stowed the weapons away in her belt. Powder and balls were in a bag that was already stored there.  
"Listen up! They know we're here, by now! They'll expect us! They'll shoot us like ripe apples, so we just have to be faster! We'll have to get at the fort first! Strongest men with the ropes! We only have one chance! If we don't get the walls in the first attempt, we're all dead, and we agreed that this won't happen! So there!"

She spun around and picked up the bundle that de Baanstedt had given her for safekeeping. Not quite knowing why, she didn't want to leave it here and folded it, then tucked it into her belt at her back. She then brandished her sabre and kicked down the gangplank that was already leaning against the railing. Then she slowly turned around, looking into forty-five grim, expectant faces. With a slight grin, she flicked her head into the direction of Nassau. "Charge."

No one moved and Imogen spread out her arms. "What are you waiting for ye bloody bastards!!", she creamed then and jumped down, not even bothering with the plank. Her boots hit the sand with a crunch, and behind her, her men broke out into a terrifying battle screams they poured down the plank and the railing like a flood of doom.

"CHARGE!!" Imogen screamed at the top of her lungs, sabre brandished over her head, and broke into a run. Behind her, screaming like madmen, her men followed.

They followed the direct coastline, running along the beach and heading straight for the harbour and the armed and waiting fort. Her heart hammering inside her chest, Imogen was still in the lead, staring at the walls of the fort growing before her. Were they expecting them from that direction? She could see the merlons now, and between two of them, a dark spot appeared. And another beside it.

"ALL HANDS DOWN!!"

Stumbling and cursing, the men fell face down into the sand behind her, following her lead. Shortly behind and beside them, four cannonballs hit the sand with deafening roars and shuddering impacts. Clouds of sand burst up and covered all of them in yellow dust, one of the balls, however, hit a tree that exploded into a cloud of wooden splinters and branches that flew through the air. Imogen could hear someone scream behind her as a searing pain shot through her arm.

"Capt'n!!"  
Even as she was stumbling, trying to get up, Henningsen was at her side and staring at her in horror. Imogen slowly followed his gaze and saw one of the splinters, as long as her forearm, piercing her left upper arm, going right through it, protruding on both sides. Blood was dripping down her fingers.  
"Get that off me", she snarled to Henningsen, swallowing heavily. Strangely enough, it hardly hurt.  
"Capt'n..."  
"Get that off me!", she yelled. "Pull it out! We've got no time for that right now!"  
"Aye...", he muttered, slightly white-faced.  
Using his knife, he cut of her left shirt sleeve and closed his fingers around the splinter. "Ready?"  
Imogen nodded, drawing a deep breath in with a loud hiss as Henningsen pulled the splinter from her flesh. It wasn't too thick, but sharp-edged, and Imogen couldn't suppress a scream of both fury and pain as he dropped it.  
"Gott im Himmel!", he screamed then and hastily tied a knot into the sleeve in his other hand. (1) Blood was squirting out of the wound and Imogen felt close to fainting.

_God, stay up, stay up, ye silly bitch!_ She watched Henningsen tie the sleeve around her arm with a tight knot that made her fingers tingle, but at least, it almost stopped the bleeding. _Deal with that later, girl! Ye've got a job to do, first!_  
Henningsen gave her a concerned look, but she swallowed and nodded. "I'll do." Then she took a deep breath. "Bastards!"

With a pat on Henningsen's arm, Imogen scrambled onto her feet again and held up her sabre. "CHARGE!!"  
Breaking into a run again, the men started gradually to disperse, aiming to take the walls in two or three places at once. Henningsen stared at Imogen for a moment, but with a shake of his head, he finally followed her, catching up with her through the ranks of the running men.

The next salvo of shots fell, yet this time, their aim was far worse. The balls hit the sand far behind the charging crew of the Albatross.

The first man had reached the walls and threw up his hook. It was thrown right back again and someone shot at him, but missed, quite narrowly. The next hook flew, and Imogen aimed at the man crouching behind the merlon and fired. He fell over, disappearing out of sight. "Cursed hancocks", she muttered, loading her pistol again. A shot fell, and a man beside her dropped, clutching his arm in pain.  
"Lie down!", she yelled. "Keep yer face down! No one shoots a dead man!"  
The man followed her orders and fell down, and as Imogen looked up, she saw that miraculously, the first four of her men were already atop the walls.

One of them fell back down, dead before he hit the ground, a hole in his chest. With a scream of fury, Imogen grabbed the nearest rope and started to pull herself up, ignoring the searing pain in her left arm.

The whole garrison of Nassau had had no more than thirty men, and eight of them had been manning the outer defences that Imogen had already overcome. She didn't know this, of course, and was therefore rather surprised that, once her men had succeeded in getting on the walls, they encountered hardly any resistance any more. The whole fight was over in less than an hour, and Imogen stumbled down the stairs into the courtyard of the fort as she heard, distantly, cracks of shots coming from the harbour. The Petronella had landed and her soldiers were now attacking whatever resistance they encountered in the harbour.

"Open the gates!", Imogen screamed. "The gates! Open the gates!"

Some of her men ran towards the winch that held the inner gates in place, and with a screech, the barrier moved slowly upwards. The gates were flung open, and at last, Imogen slowly sheathed her sabre, taking a look around in the fort.

Twelve English soldiers had survived the onslaught and were now gathered in a corner, guarded by two of her men as prisoners of war. Seeing as all of them were quite young men, Imogen realised why they had such an easy time in capturing city and garrison in the first place. A bunch of hardly more than boys, inexperienced and young, had been stationed here, probably to get no more than some practise and drilling. She found it in her heart to pity them.

With a slightly swimming head, Imogen slowly walked over to the flag pole that centred the courtyard and with a few deliberate movements, she drew down the English flag. Yet as she was about to drop it she found herself staring at the cloth, and again, overcome by a feeling she could not name. Following the impulse that had stopped her, she slowly folded the flag, folded it again and again, and tucked it into her belt.

Pulling the other bundle of cloth from her belt in turn, she slowly unfolded the Dutch flag and fiddled it into the strings that had held the English flag before. Realising with a slight feeling of dismay that one end of the flag was stained with blood, she bit her lower lip, but most of the blood was on the orange part of the flag, and thus, hopefully, hardly noticeable, from a distance. With a few swift movements of her right arm, for her left slowly began to refuse its service, Imogen drew up the Dutch flag over the fort, into the wind that flapped it straight.

A chorus of hoorays greeted the appearance of the flag, but the men fell silent again as Imogen, who had watched it with a heavy sigh, slowly turned around to walk over to the English prisoners with a grim and determined face. "Who's in charge?"  
A man that was somewhat older than the rest stepped forth. All of them wore their coats inside out to state their status as prisoners of war. "I am the captain. Or rather, I was."  
Imogen nodded and handed the folded English flag over to him. He stared at her wide-eyed, then swallowed and hesitatingly took it.  
"Strange days", he said in a low voice. "Overcome by a woman captaining a bunch of mercenaries, yet with more feeling of honour than I have encountered in most of the king's own men."  
Imogen shrugged, a movement that sent fire through her arm. She grimaced and took a deep breath.

"Captain?" Imogen looked at the man again who swallowed. "Do you know what will happen to us now? I couldn't have the boys slaughtered in such a manner, so I had them give up, but... I know I am in no position to ask for a favour... but could you... could we..." He swallowed again. "Can we be buried with the flag?"  
Imogen slowly narrowed her eyes. "You are prisoners of war", she said slowly. "And as such, I don't think you are going to be killed. But I have to inform you that I am not in charge of this mission. I will do put in a word, though. If I'll be listened to is another matter."  
The captain nodded. "I see." He turned around again and looked his men, or better, boys, over with a sigh, then faced Imogen again.  
"I will say my words, captain."  
"I thank you for it. I wouldn't mind the dying myself, you know. It's the boys I feel sorry for. Most of them are less than twenty."  
Imogen followed his gaze.  
"There's young Albert who joined the navy less than three months ago as his whole family died during the journey here. And see what he got for it."

One of the young men was sitting on the ground, his back against the wall. His face was drained of all colour, and even from the distance Imogen could see the blood welling slowly from a gut wound. He had been shot right through, condemned to die in the most agonizing and painful way there was, a death that could last as long as twenty-four hours.

Imogen tilted her head. "It is not in my power to spare any of their lives, captain."  
"I know", he said, looking her straight in the face. "I just pity them. Young Albert has never even kissed a lass in his life, and now never will."  
"Why are you telling me this, captain?"  
He shrugged. "I would hate to see them die in shame and agony. Although Albert can't be saved any more. He'll be dead within the day, I guess. A shame at his age." The captain didn't look at Imogen again but at his boys instead, his shoulders hunched. It was obviously weighing heavily on him to have not only lost the fight but also so many of his men.

"I understand..." Imogen said slowly and walked over to the rows of young men, looking them over, then slowly lowered herself down on one knee beside Albert. He hadn't even begun to shave. Thin, wispy hair covered his upper lip, he couldn't be more than sixteen.  
He stared at her. "I'm not afraid of you, dirty mercenary", he said with more bravado than could be seen in his eyes, his voice hoarse with pain. Imogen was sure that he knew he was doomed. He swallowed heavily, his breathing ragged.  
"No need to", she said in a low voice, looking into his eyes. He had seen far more than his age should allow, and yet, if the captain's words were true, he had never kissed a woman in his life. For some odd reason, this one sentence touched Imogen's heart in pity.

"How old are ye, Albert?"  
"Fifteen."  
She leaned a little closer to him, tilting her head. "Have ye ever kissed a woman?"  
He gritted his teeth, but since no one laughed, as obviously no one dared, he swallowed and then shook his head. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he stared up at her, obviously fighting his pain, fighting to remain upright and not to break down.

Imogen stared at the boy for a few seconds more, then slung her right arm around his neck and met his lips with hers, parting her lips in a fierce, passionate, open-mouthed kiss. He stiffened in shock at first, but after a second, he opened his lips to her and let himself be kissed. He was about to lift his hands up to her head when Imogen slowly took her pistol from her belt with her left hand and cocked it. A deadly silence fell like a blanket onto the whole courtyard.

Still locking the boy in her kiss, Imogen brought the pistol up to Albert's head, resting the muzzle right under his ear, then she slowly broke the kiss and leaned back. "Now you have", she whispered into his smiling face and pulled the trigger. Wrenching her head around the same moment with a grunt of disgust, his blood spluttered only half of her face as she caught his falling upper body in her right arm, bringing him down slowly and laying him down.

No one spoke. No one moved, as Imogen slowly got up and wiped her right hand across her face, leaving smears of blood on her cheek and chin. She looked around with narrowed eyes, but none of the men who stared at her in terrified awe did so much as twitch.

Silently and without another word, Imogen slowly turned around and left the courtyard, heading down for the harbour.

But everyone in the courtyard, the crew of the Albatross, the captured English soldiers and the five men of the Petronella who had entered without anyone noticing, had seen the smile on the young man's face as he had died. It was still on his lips as he lay there, his arms folded on his chest, before the captain walked over and slowly and deliberately covered him with the flag.

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(1) God in heaven!


	22. Chapter 20

**Chapter ****20**

As soon as Imogen passed the outer gates of the fort, Henningsen caught up with her. "Capt'n."  
She stopped and slowly turned to face him.  
"Capt'n, ye need to have zat taken care of." He indicated to her arm and Imogen slowly lowered her gaze to the bloodstained cloth around the wound.  
"Round up the crew, Niels."  
"Capt'n..."  
She looked up, baring her teeth in fury. "That was an order, Henningsen. Round up the crew here. All of them. All. Of. Them. Clear? Now."

Henningsen ran a hand through his hair in desperation. "_Nu lütt, deern!(1)_ If ye don't have zat taken care of now, it'll eizer break open and ye'll bleed to deaz or you will loose ze arm because of ze bandage and ze loss of blood in..."  
"Shut up." Imogen shot him a dark glance. "Get my men together, and meet me at the pier. There's a physician on the Petronella."  
"Aye", Henningsen said slowly and watched her go, feeling reluctant to carry out his orders yet knowing that if he didn't, all hell would break loose. So he stood back and let her go, against all his better judgement, and hurried back to the fort to relate Imogen's orders back to her men.

Getting them all together took not that much time, and it turned out that they only had lost three from their ranks. All of them, she had said. So they carried the three dead men with them towards the harbour where they met up with their captain, standing on the pier and talking to Captain van Rijmenant.

She turned around when she heard them approach, making Henningsen even more worried. There was no colour left in her face and the gash next to her left eye was by now swollen and covered in black, clotted blood. For some reason, Henningsen was absolutely sure she hadn't even noticed it, as it had happened the same moment when the splinter had pierced her arm, even though it was so close that had it been less than half an inch further inward, she'd have lost the eye.

"The crew", he said slowly as Imogen made three steps into his direction, and walked up to her to meet her. "All of them, as ye said, Capt'n. Lost three of them."  
Imogen took a deep breath. "Damn it all to hell", she said softly.  
"Captain", van Rijmenant said behind her, catching up with her. "You have lost only three men. I'd dare say that three of forty-five is..."  
She spun around. "Is three too many", she snarled. "As opposed to other people, I do care for my men and I do care if they're killed or harmed. Will your physician see them or do we have to patch us up ourselves?"

Van Rijmenant wrinkled his forehead in indignation. "You sound as if I didn't care if my men live or die, Captain, which isn't the case, I assure you. Be that as it may, yes, the orders were clear. Your men can come aboard and will receive every possible treatment."  
"Orders, aye? Without them ye'd probably leave us to kick the bucket all too happily."  
"Captain, I..."  
"Leave it be, Captain van Rijmenant. I know my place." Imogen looked up at him, her jaws working heavily. By now she had to summon all her strength to keep upright. "Thank you for sharing your doctor with us."

Van Rijmenant pressed his lips together, but then, realising that with her burning eyes and deadly pale face she was probably not really master of her own senses any more, stood aside and Imogen ordered the wounded of her men aboard. With a concerned face, Henningsen stood closer beside her. "Capt'n?"  
"I'll do", Imogen said, but she had to admit that even to herself, it didn't sound very convincing any more. "But yes, I'll see the doctor now."  
Her knees chose that moment to refuse their service and as she buckled over, Henningsen caught her and slipped her right arm across his shoulders, swearing softly to himself in German as Imogen struggled to get her legs under her again.  
"Come on", he said then and leaning on him, Imogen let herself be walked onto the Petronella.

The doctor they had taken with them was already kneeling beside one of her men who had, like her, suffered from a splinter of the exploding tree, but had only received a gash in his leg. "You will have to...", he began, then turned his head as he saw from the corner of his eyes someone being all but dragged on board.  
He quickly got up. "Captain Sparrow, by all holy heavens..."  
Imogen lifted her head. "Doctor de Beer", she began. "We seem to meet each other under the worst of circumstances only."

"Being as I am a doctor, that is hardly surprising", he said as he hurried over to her. "And you seem to have a gift for surviving injuries that would kill stronger men", he added then as he took her left hand and lifted her arm cautiously to look at it. "Sit down."  
"My men first", Imogen rasped and de Beer exchanged a glance with Henningsen who still held her upright and now rolled his eyes heavenwards.  
"Captain, I acknowledge your bravado, but I have to insist..."  
"And I insist on you treating my men first, Doctor. I'll do."  
"I hate to inform you that you most likely won't, the way things look right now."  
"I will not suffer being treated any better than my men. They're more important than me. They'll get back home without me fine, whereas I get nowhere without them." She shot de Beer a glance of determination.

Henningsen gently patted her back. "Whatever ye say, Capt'n, but we won't see ye die like zat."  
"I am afraid I have to agree with..." De Beer raised his eyebrows.  
"Henningsen. First mate."  
"With your first mate", the doctor went on. "It is the severeness of the injury that determines who gets treated first, not rank. And yours is worse by far than anything else I have seen so far today."  
"Very well", Imogen snarled. "All right! Have yer way with me!" Then she closed her eyes as she felt her head swim somewhat fiercely.  
"Sit her down", the doctor told Henningsen and he gently lowered Imogen to the ground, resting her back against the mast.

De Beer examined the arm with a very thoughtful and unhappy face. "That doesn't look good at all. Who did this?"  
"I did", Henningsen said. "It was zat or..."  
"Or let her bleed to death, quite. It was the best you could have done. It has been in place rather long now, however, and I do worry..."  
"Zat's what I was afraid of", Henningsen admitted as he exchanged a glance with de Beer who sighed.

"Captain", he said slowly. "This is serious. I have to tell you I might not be able to save your arm."  
Imogen looked up at him and swallowed, then shrugged her right shoulder. "I thank you for trying", she said slowly and closed her eyes. Losing an arm? She had never thought of being crippled herself, although she had met a fair amount of people who had suffered the loss of a limb, so far. And her father one of them, and due to her own fault, to boot.

_F__or all the good y__ou do, you get paid in heaven... _

Maybe this was her old life, finally catching up with her. Having taken her skin of her back as a punishment for what she had done to Billy, and now... losing a limb for what she had done to her father. It seemed strangely fitting, although the thought filled her with horror.

_...for __all the bad you pay down here._

Trying to keep Jack's iron, scuff-proof attitude in mind, she told her that it was only the left arm and that she wouldn't be completely helpless. Still, she couldn't help but shudder at the thought, and was rather welcoming the unconsciousness that slowly but inevitably began to claim her.

x x x x x x x x

Although still weak and far from being recovered, Imogen had insisted on leading the raid herself. She couldn't even steer, but nonetheless she stood at the helm, next to Henningsen who held the wheel, realising with a faint feeling of satisfaction that she could operate the spy glass well enough with one hand without looking like a clumsy idiot.

"Ye were right. She's Spanish", she said to Henningsen. "And she's heavily loaded. Get her."  
"Aye." Henningsen turned the wheel slightly and Imogen gave orders across the deck to her men to get ready.

In less than twenty minutes, they had caught up with the Spanish ship and exchanged a few salvos with her. But she wasn't well armed, not at all, she only seemed to have two cannons on each side, and in practically no time the Albatross was so close that her men readied themselves to throw the hooks across the railing, preparing to board her.

"Listen up!" Imogen shouted across the deck, standing next to the mast. "This time, I can't fight with ye! This time, ye have to do the fighting for me, but by the powers, ye won't see me crawl away into a hole! I can still hold a pistol! Show them who and what we are!!"  
And the men broke out into battle screams, brandishing swords, sabres, pistols and hooks.  
"Albatross!" one of them screamed suddenly, and some others fell in.  
Imogen heard this and took a deep breath. "Fly on, Albatross!", she screamed, watching with a disbelieving grin as the men took this up and the cry was answered by forty-two men. "Fly on, Albatross!"  
"Fly on, Albatross!", she screamed again. "GET THEM!"

Imogen could only watch, leaning heavily against the main mast, as the hooks flew and the ships were pulled together. But the feeling of her men taking up on the battle cry while charging at the other ship was making her feel proud. Utterly, undefyingly proud. Yes, this was where she belonged, even if right now, she couldn't join the fight.

The ships collided and the men readied themselves to board.

"CHARGE!" Imogen screamed at the top of her lungs. "Fly on, Albatross!"  
One of the men turned and grinned at her. "Sparrow, fly high!", he hollered and the crew brandished their weapons like one man.  
"For Captain Sparrow!", one of them screamed, and suddenly, all of them joined him as they swarmed across the Spanish ship. "For Captain Sparrow!"  
Imogen had to close her eyes to hide the tears that suddenly threatened to shame her. Still leaning against the mast, with a more than slightly swimming head, she watched her men overcome the crew of the Spanish vessel, the battle cry "For Captain Sparrow!" still resounding in her head.

She opened them again as someone laid a hand on her right shoulder and looked up into the smiling face of Henningsen.  
"Niels", she said with a scratchingly hoarse voice. "Did I deserve that?"  
He grinned and gently squeezed her shoulder. "And about time, too", he said, patting her shoulder again before dropping his hand.

And as Imogen watched her men carry the provisions of the Spanish vessel aboard the Albatross, she couldn't help but feel that he was right. Not that it was about time. She was absolutely sure that before, she wouldn't have deserved it. But now, after what she and her men had gone through now, maybe now.  
She had been loyal to her men. And this was what she had got back for it. Loyalty. They had fought together, spilled their blood together, and even if it had maybe been foolish to have insisted on her men being treated first, due to the severeness of her own injury, it had left a deep impression on the men.  
They were hers, now. And she was their captain. She couldn't quite say what had been before that, but she was absolutely sure that now, every single man would break someone's leg as soon as hearing them snigger at them for sailing under a female captain.

Not only was she proud of them, she realised. By now, after all that had happened, they were proud of her. And it was a feeling that she had never felt in her life: having deserved someone being proud of her. And she knew that she herself would rather be flogged again and face the gallows herself than have any of her men facing the same fate.

"Fly on, Albatross", she muttered to herself. And she smiled.

x x x x x x x x x

Not bothering with sinking the Spanish vessel this time, the Albatross set full canvas as soon as all the provisions, and there had been a lot of them, had been stowed away below deck. The ship quickly vanished out of sight, damaged, robbed, but still afloat with only two dead men amongst their crew. They had been wise enough to surrender, being as it was twenty against forty-two.

And with their hull now filled with food of all sorts and six live dairy goats, Imogen had Henningsen set course back to Nassau.

"Nassau?" he stared at her. "I zought we were going back to..."  
"After that, Niels. We bring the provisions to Nassau."  
He blinked a few times in utter confusion. "Why?"  
Imogen smiled thinly. "Because it helps to get the people of Nassau over to our side if we give them a few things to be happy about. No one is happy to be conquered by enemies. But if the new masters prove to be better than the old, then there's no reason to mourn the old days, is there?"  
Henningsen gave her a long, thoughtful look. "Does de Baanstedt know zat?"  
Imogen grinned with half-lowered lids. "No. It's a surprise."  
Shaking his head with a grin, Henningsen looked ahead again and closed his fingers around the spokes. "He's not going to be happy."

De Baanstedt had indeed not been able to hide his disappointment that so few of Imogen's crew had died, not even herself. She didn't quite know what she had done that he despised her so, and neither did she know why he made so little effort to hide it. But if he needed a few more reasons to be upset with her, he could gladly have them. Just a few more reasons to have him praise her.

Imogen exchanged another grin with Henningsen.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(1) "Now listen, girl!", in a northern German dialect.


	23. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

After settling down comfortably, Watkinson put down the carafe again and blew a large cloud of smoke that he watched with a half-thoughtful, half-dreamy expression.  
"Well, at last it seems, my dear friends, as if we have heard the last of the circumstances around the demise of our most valued O'Brien", he said slowly.  
"Fair enough." Barristone took a sip of his brandy. "If you ask me, that is. He brought it all on himself."  
"No mistake", Watkinson gave back.

The gentlemen were silent for a while.

"What hurts me, though, is the money", Greenwood mumbled after a while, taking a sip of his own beverage. "Thirty doubloons, by thunder, I could have used that much gold for something far more useful."  
"I guess we all could wholeheartedly agree to that", Jack said, savouring his cigar. "But alas, there is no way to get that money back."

Another rather long silence followed.

"Now in our younger years, replacing such a loss wouldn't have been a problem", Barristone said. The other three gentlemen looked at him and he shrugged with a smile. "I beg you", he said with a half-way grin. "Thirty doubloons, why, I myself have lost that much in gambling on a single evening, and won thrice as much back the next day. "  
"Not through gambling, though", Watkinson replied, equally thoughtful.

And yet, another meaningful silence filled the room along with the tendrils of cigar smoke.

"Alas, if I still had a ship..." Barristone began and sucked his cigar. "But I've given up business long ago."  
"So have I", Watkinson replied, looking into his glass as if he could measure his own lifespan with the level of brandy. And as if deciding not to take any risks, he picked up the carafe and refilled first his own, then the other three glasses that were slowly extended to him.

"Well, if it is only one ship you need", Jack began. "I guess that could be easily arranged."  
Watkinson looked up. "It is not done with a ship only, my dear friend Jack", he replied with a faint smirk. "But it certainly is a good start. What we need..." He leaned back and looked into the three faces around him. "What we need...", he said again, "...is a good plan."

The only sound in the next long silence was the soft sizzling of the four cigars that were heftily sucked at by four very thoughtfully frowning pairs of lips.

"I just remembered something", Watkinson finally said in a low voice. "I used to work together with this one Spaniard, now what was his name..." He scratched his chin, careful not to sprinkle any ashes down his shirt. "Almanzo. That was his name. Fernando Jose Almanzo. Was a pleasure to work with, the gentleman. Met him regularly in Tortuga."  
"So?" Jack leaned forward to look at Watkinson and the other two beside him followed his example.  
"Hm. The last I heard of him was that he had been appointed governor of one of the smaller Spanish cities on the coast of Terra Firma, somewhere south of Curacao. "  
"Which one?" Barristone had forgotten his cigar and a trickle of ash sprinkled the carpet next to his foot. No one noticed, as all eyes, and ears, were on Watkinson.  
"I can't for the life of me remember which one. I'd need a map to look at, and then I surely would.  
"I am sure a map could be found", Jack said with a small smile. "Yet I am still not fully keeping up with your train of thoughts, Alan."

Watkinson leaned back. "I can hardly follow my own thoughts, right now. Yet I do remember that the smaller Spanish cities have ever complained about being neglected by the crown. The larger ones, now, they get all the soldiers and weapons, but the smaller ones are left fending for themselves. I remember selling weapons to bold and patriotic Spaniards was always a profitable undertaking."  
"Well, not to be offensive", Greenwood said slowly. "But that was quite a few years ago."  
Watkinson grinned. "Oh, doubtlessly. But answer for yourself: How likely is it that the Spanish crown has suddenly discovered its poor, neglected colonies hidden away on Terra Firma and send ships there with weapons and soldiers?"

Another very long and heavy silence followed these last words.

"I am sure another drink will help us get those old brains into gear", Watkinson said onto the silence and picked up the carafe, filling up the glasses extended to him before filling his own. The four gentlemen sipped their brandy with thoughtful frowns.

"I can see where this might lead us", Jack finally said. "A profitable undertaking, yet a dangerous one. We are all settled and respectable gentlemen of Port Royal's society."  
"A cunning plan is required", Barristone said and took a sip of his brandy.  
"Absolutely", Jack gave back.  
Both looked back at Watkinson who grinned a cat-like grin. "Let us plan", he said.

The four gentlemen moved a little closer together.

"First thing", Watkinson began. "We need the contact. I do have a contact, maybe. I will have to get in touch with him, and see if he is interested."  
"Sounds reasonable. Next thing?" Greenwood sucked at his cigar, producing a large, bluish cloud.  
"Second thing", Watkinson went on. "We need the produce to sell, a place to buy them, and what's more, the seed capital to do so." He looked around with a shrug.  
"Well", Jack said with pursed lips. "There's nothing you can't buy in Trinidad. If you ever needed something that had not the expenses of the king's taxes on it, be it alcohol, tobacco, anything, silk, slaves or even weapons, Trinidad was the harbour to go to. Still is."

The other three gentlemen nodded thoughtfully.

"I am sure, that if we combine efforts, we can find the seed capital you were talking about, Alan", Barristone added now. "I cannot imagine the amount of thirty doubloons, painful as it may be, having stripped any of us bare."  
"Not bare", Jack said. "But I have to say that I had some vile expenses before that to get myself set up here. Not much left, but then, I do have a ship."  
Barristone nodded with an understanding smile. "I do remember becoming a member of society was more expensive by far than I ever would have imagined. It was only through the help of my dear friend Alan here that I prevailed."  
Jack nodded and sucked at his cigar, blowing a cloud of smoke with his head laid back.

"Right, I can see where this is going", Watkinson said and rubbed his hands after setting down his glass. "I have the contacts, or I will get them. To start with, let us assume that my old friend Almanzo is still in the position I remember him in. The next step will be the seed money. I have some, our friend John has some. That should do."  
"I can join in", Greenwood added now, extending an empty glass.  
Watkinson filled it with a smile. "Perfect."  
"So let us assume we have the contact, the seed money and the ship."  
"Ships", Greenwood threw in. "We need two of those, otherwise it will be too obvious."  
"Come again?" Watkinson leaned forward again.  
"Easy", Greenwood said. "If one ship goes to Trinidad and then to wherever on the Spanish Main it is, everyone spotting this or hearing of this will know. So we need two ships. One to buy the contraband, the other to sell it."  
"Sounds like you are right, friend Horace", Jack said and emptied his glass. Watkinson refilled it generously.

"I go to Trinidad", Greenwood said. "I buy weapons and cannons. Easy enough. Your ship lies here in the harbour, Jack. Obviously, as you do not have sufficient arms to go into the dangerous waters littered with privateers and pirates."  
"I haven't?" Jack blinked with a tilted head, then his face lightened up. "Of course I haven't! Had to redo my ship recently after a vicious attack! Glad to have escaped with my life!"  
Greenwood chuckled, it sounded as if someone poured gravel into a tin bucket. "Aye. I go and buy cannons on your behalf. Bring them back here. You equip your ship with it, stow the old cannons away below. No need to sell the Spaniards the new cannons, is there? If they have none right now, then why should they grumble?"  
Watkinson grinned. "I love your way of thinking, Horace. Brandy?"

Again, three glasses were extended to him, even if Barristone and Jack had to hastily empty theirs before that.

"So", Greenwood went on. "We load the weapons onto your ship, Jack. And then you merrily sail to Curacao, the largest free port in the Spanish Main. Only you accidentally pass Curacao and end up in the little city held by our dear friend Watkinson's friend Almanzo. He knows, of course, of the offer and of your ship, I guess Watkinson will have to accompany you or at least give you a recommendatory letter."  
"I would not mind going there in person", Watkinson interjected. "Always best to do negotiations in person."  
"Done then", Jack said. "So we will go there, sell the plunder to your friend Almanzo and go home again with our pockets lined with silver."

"Now if that doesn't sound like a grand plan, I don't know what does", Watkinson said with a grin and lifted his glass. "Gentlemen, to success."  
"To success!", was the answer from the other three gentlemen, and after the toast, the glasses were refilled again.  
"Gentlemen", Watkinson said then, "I must bless the day that brought us all together."  
"Well, something good came out of O'Brien's demise then, as it seems", Greenwood said with a rasping chuckle.  
"Let us drink to that." Watkinson filled the glasses again.

x x x x x x x x

When Jack staggered home that night, he did so with a huge grin on his face.  
His life wasn't over yet, there were yet a few adventures for him in store. He had been worried that his life in Port Royal's society would be boring to the extreme and drive him mad, eventually, but he had to admit now that this would unlikely be the case, now. Not with friends like these. Still grinning, he cautiously staggered inside and upstairs where, to his surprise, Elizabeth was still awake despite the late hour.

"Ye didn't stay awake on my account, luv, did ye?", he asked in a slight drawl, as he noticed to his dismay. He was more drunk than he had initially thought.  
Yet Elizabeth turned around with a smile. "Yes and no. I could not sleep, and I quite enjoy the silence of the night, standing here on the balcony, looking at the sea."  
With a smile, he joined her on the balcony then and put an arm around her as he followed her gaze over the garden and across the bay, resting his gaze on the horizon.  
"Well it is a lovely view", he had to admit.  
Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh.  
"And the company is certainly nothing to complain about", he added with a slight smirk and pulled her closer to him. "Shame I'm so drunk."  
"You seem to be each time you come from Watkinson's house", Elizabeth remarked with a faint smile. "Are you enjoying yourself in the company of other gentlemen?"  
"Gentlemen", Jack said with a grin. "Gentlemen like me."

"Jack?" Having noticed something odd in his voice, Elizabeth looked up at him, yet he still stared at the horizon.  
"Can ye keep a secret, luv?"  
She narrowed her eyes. "I seem to be doing a good job keeping yours, Jack."  
With a smile, Jack placed a kiss onto her crown. "Oh aye, you do, luv. Let us just say I am not the only gentleman in Port Royal with a colourful past."  
"Jack?"  
"I am sure you can make up the rest, luv. There's more than one retired pirate here. And at least two retired smugglers."  
She stared up at him, but he didn't seem to be joking, and with a shake of her head, Elizabeth looked out across the bay again. "Just promise me you won't get yourself into any kind of trouble", she said then, but since she didn't look at Jack, she didn't notice that his grin became a little strained.

They stood there for a while, breathing in the cool night air which sobered Jack enough to start wondering if he had gotten himself into trouble already or if he shouldn't worry so much, then Elizabeth said she felt tired enough now to go to sleep and left him.  
He was, all of a sudden, not tired at all anymore. Yet even as he was beginning to wonder again if he should pull out of the plan, his thoughts were distracted by sounds coming from the garden below him. Someone laughed. A woman laughed. He leaned forward and strained his ears

"Really, Master Turner, I have to go back inside and check that Josh hasn't woken up yet."  
That was Louise's lilting Irish accent.  
"I will let you go, Louise, just one more word..."  
That was Bill. With a faint grin, Jack took a step back as not to be obvious, but kept eavesdropping.

"Master Turner, please..."  
"Louise. Call me Bill."  
"I beg your pardon, I cannot really..."  
"Oh yes you can...Louise. Please, call me Bill."  
"I will, then. But I can't really..."  
"Louise..."

The voices came nearer. Jack had a look down the balcony and truly, they just rounded the corner and came into view below him.

"Bill. I know it, you know it. Let us not dwell on that topic. I will leave you in a few weeks time, as Josh is almost weaned now."  
"He may be." Bill's voice got softer now. "But he will still need someone to care for him. And why should I deprive him of you, since you two get so well along with each other?"  
"He needs no wet nurse anymore."  
"No. He needs a mother."  
"I am not his mother, and we both know it."  
"But you love him like one, don't you? You couldn't be more of a mother for him if he were your own."  
"I promised I would."  
"So you might as well stay and keep on being like a mother to him, no?"  
"I can't really see..."  
"Do you expect me to raise the boy on my own?"  
"No. You have your mother and..."  
"Louise. Please, stay with us. With me, and with little Josh."

Jack cautiously leaned forward a little more, watching Bill reach out to touch Louise's cheek. With a smile to himself, he held his breath, hoping they wouldn't see him, for if he moved away now, they would hear him for sure, and the spell of the moment for them would be broken.

"Louise. Stay with us."  
"Bill... I can't."  
"You can. Be Josh's mother, Louise."  
"But I can't be Josh's mother..."  
"Not unless you would be my wife."  
"Bill..."

Her whisper was hardly audible to Jack up on the balcony. _Kiss her, ye fool,_ Jack thought. _Kiss her now!_

"Louise", Bill said in a soft voice. "Will you marry me?"

_Kiss her!_

"Bill, I don't know what..."  
"Please, just say yes."

_Kiss her, ye utter dolt! Now!_

"Bill..."  
"Louise." He placed his hands on her cheeks. "Please. Not only for Josh's sake. For mine, as well."  
"I..."

_Kiss her, ye complete idiot! How long __d'ye think__ that moment __w__ill last! Kiss her! _Watching them, Jack had to refrain from shouting at Bill to bloody goddamn kiss her. _Bloody Turner, son of __yer__ fat__h__er for sure, what are ye waiting for..._

"Louise. Marry me. Stay with me. I love you." And then, finally, Bill seemed to have summoned enough courage to actually kiss her, at long last. Jack leaned back with a soft sigh as they kissed and, assured that their attention was now on anything else than at any sounds around them, he withdrew himself as silently as he could, a broad smile on his face.

"Jack?" Elizabeth whispered as he crawled under the covers beside her, smiling faintly herself at the expression on his face.  
"Family grows, luv", he said as he pulled her close and nuzzled her hair. "I think Louise will stay much longer then we had thought."She looked at him, first in incomprehension, then understanding dawned on her face and she had to grin as well. Jack leaned over her to kiss her, and she was smiling against his lips.

Only when he broke the kiss and leaned back something struck the back of her mind and she looked at Jack again. "Are you not sad for her?"  
Jack blinked, then looked at her again. "Imogen? Why? Do you think I had hopes they would find to each other again?"  
Elizabeth swallowed. "I don't know... I guess I had... for a while."  
"You didn't see them part", he gave back in a whisper. "I never had any doubts."  
With a sigh, Elizabeth snuggled back into his embrace. "I hope she's well. I do hope she finds love and happiness for her own. She so deserves it."  
"Aye, to that I certainly agree. She'll be fine", Jack replied and hugged her close.

Yet he send a few thoughts to his daughter before he closed his eyes, wishing for her to find what she was looking for, whatever that would be.


	24. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

He had told himself to keep a straight face. He had told himself a hundred times over to remain distanced and keep his countenance. He had never before in his life had any troubles about it. But as Imogen stepped through the door the servant had opened for her, Lucas van Huuiten almost jumped out of his chair as he saw the red, welted gash so close to her left eye... and the empty left sleeve of her coat hanging down at her side. He couldn't help but stare at her for a few seconds.  
"Captain Sparrow..." , he said, unable to keep his voice quite as steady as he would have liked.

She halted before his desk and bowed her head. "Governor. I'm sorry for my appearance, but while I can dress myself well enough with one hand, doing up my hair is beyond me."  
She was speaking the truth, her hair was a curly, unruly mess, but he hadn't been looking at her hair, precisely. Yet saying nothing, van Huuiten adjusted himself in his chair again. "Take a seat, Captain."  
"Thank you, sir."

Imogen slowly sat down, casting a glance at his face. He had himself under full control again, but she was sure she had seen something like horrified astonishment in his eyes as she had entered. She might have imagined it. But she was pretty sure she hadn't.  
"Governor van Huuiten", she said slowly and reached with her right hand into her coat, bringing forth a leather-bound document. "I bring you Nassau."

Van Huuiten slowly lowered his eyes to the document she had dropped before him on his desk, staring at it with an unmoving face while waiting for his heartbeat to calm down. He had no words to describe his feelings as he had seen her empty sleeve, believing her to have been crippled in his service; and even less so for the feeling that had flooded through him when he had glimpsed her fingers as she had brought forth the document and he had realised that she was wearing the arm in a sling under her coat.

"Your report?", van Huuiten asked then and finally dared to look at her again without giving himself away.  
She nodded. "Aye, sir. My report." She reached into her coat again, producing two more documents. "And the reports of Captain van Rijmenant and Governor de Baanstedt."  
Van Huuiten nodded in return. "Losses?"  
"Two soldiers."  
"And your men?" He had heard an edge in her voice.  
She shifted in her seat and gave him a long look under lowered lids. "Since you ask", she said pointedly. "I lost three of my men."

"I am sorry to hear that", van Huuiten said, keeping his eyes on her face. She seemed to sneer, but so faintly he wasn't sure if she really did. "Captain?"  
Imogen sat up straight. "Nothing. I was waiting for a polite comment."  
"...excuse me?"  
"I can't really expect you to be honestly concerned, can I? But rest assured, you have my heartfelt thanks for allowing us to be treated by the doctor aboard the Petronella."  
"Captain, have I really deserved this?"

They exchanged a long, silent glance.

"Probably not, governor. I do apologize." And with these words, Imogen got up, since she felt she couldn't stand his presence any more, for more than one reason. "I will be in dock for a while, send for me if you need something of me." She put on her hat again and bowed. "A good day, governor."

It was normally him who used that phrase, since it was usually him who declared an audience ended, but he felt himself unable to contradict, so he just nodded. "A good day, Captain Sparrow."

He watched her go with a decidedly uneasy feeling, but trying to shake this off, he sorted all the papers together onto one pile. As he did so, his eyes fell on the document that had been enclosed in the cursed letter he had received a few weeks ago and two days too late. He pursed his lips, then picked it up and found himself being on the way to his private rooms even before his mind was consciously made up. He shook his head, calling himself a fool for the hundredth time.

x x x x x x x x

Imogen was, again, left alone on her ship as she, again, did not feel like drinking with her crew even if she knew they had all reason to celebrate. She had ordered her men to get seriously drunk on her account and had watched them go with a smile, but now she stood at the helm, leaning against the wheel with her right elbow propped upon it, and stared out across the bay. A few drops of rain hit the deck, and were joined by a few more, but she ignored the rain around her and kept staring at the horizon.

A gush of wind blew some raindrops into her face, and even as Imogen wondered if it was worth to shed a few tears of frustration since with her being alone and the rain running down her face, no one would see, she heard someone call her name.

"Captain Sparrow!"

She slowly dropped her elbow and turned around to see someone stand at the bottom of the gangplank. Walking down the stairs with narrowed eyes, she realised that she had not imagined that she knew the voice. "Governor van Huuiten?"

He was wearing a long, grey coat and high leather boots, and a black hat was adjusted firmly on his wig. He looked up at her, his hands folded behind his back, and tilted his head. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?"  
Imogen held out her right arm. "Granted."  
"Thank you." He dropped his arms and walked up on deck. "Captain."  
He inclined his head and Imogen looked at him. She had never seen him anywhere else than in his office or his study, or her room as he had taught her Dutch, and for some reason it seemed strange that he should leave his residence at all. But here he was. And he must have been walking right into the rainstorm, for he was dripping wet.  
"Let's go below", she said. It was still pouring down and with a grateful nod the governor followed her below and into her cabin.

Since her cabin was rather spartanic, she offered him the only chair at the table while she leaned against the door."What can I do for you, Governor?"  
He didn't sit down and reached into his coat, instead. "Nothing. I came to give you something."  
"Governor?"  
He gave her a wry smile as he held out the document to her. "I believe you should have this, and I believe you should have this as soon as possible."  
Imogen took it. "What is it?"  
"This...", van Huuiten began, "...is a general amnesty for you."  
"A what?"  
"You surely do not mean tell me you do not know what this is, Captain."  
"I know perfectly well", she snapped and slapped the paper onto the table. "Why to me? And why now?"  
"I suggest you open it and read it, Captain."

Casting him a long, suspicious glance under half-closed lids, Imogen picked up the letter again and unfolded it. She read it, read it again and then slowly looked up at him again.

He was looking down at her unmovingly. "Shoot my words right back at me, Captain", he said in a low voice.  
"I don't see why I should, Governor." He raised his brows and she sighed, closed her eyes and gently rubbed the gash on her left temple. "I thank you for bringing this here. But why on earth did you come here in person in the pouring rain when it would have changed nothing had I received it either tomorrow or by a messenger?"  
She looked up at him again and found him still stare at her with a stony face. "The letter arrived two days after you left Wilhelmstad for Nassau, Captain. Mocking me and my careless words."  
"Your words...", Imogen said sharply. "...were quite justified and I don't wish do delve into that discussion again."  
"Captain Sparrow..."  
"Governor van Huuiten." She crossed her arms, that is, she hooked her right hand around the left one that was resting in the sling against her ribs. "I mean it."  
Van Huuiten straightened up again. "Very well", he said. "I will read the reports first thing in the morning, and I ask you to see me some time after noon. Say, the hour of one, if that is convenient."  
"It is."  
The governor nodded stiffly. "I bid you a good night, Captain. I will see you tomorrow."  
"A good night, governor."

She escorted the governor upstairs on deck again and stared after him as he left the ship and walked down the pier, and followed him with her eyes until he disappeared out of sight between the warehouses. She wasn't sure if she should be feeling relieved... or just slap herself until her head stopped spinning.

x x x x x x x x

The first document in Governor van Huuiten's hands was the report from Captain van Rijmenant. It was rather uneventful, describing the passage, how the Albatross had left them for Nassau, how they had taken the harbour and met up with the privateer again.  
Attached, however, were a few sheets with accounts of several of his men, one of them from the two men who had been on the Albatross to relate messages via the flags, and Lucas van Huuiten felt his jaws clench on their own accord as he read what the soldiers had remembered of Imogen's speech to her men.  
He felt his face drain of all colour, however, when he read the report of another man who recaptured the scene that had happened within the courtyard of the garrison fort.

_"...and then we saw the Dutch flag rise up and greeted it with a mighty hooray. Looking closer however showed us that it was blood-stained and that looked rather unsettling..."_

Blood-stained? How on earth had the flag been stained with blood? He read on, noticing with dismay that his fingers were trembling.

_"...and she asked him something, later were we told that she had asked him had he ever kissed a woman. He shook his head and at that, she kissed him, and a rare sight it was to see her point her pistol at his ear as she did so. He was oblivious, however, with good reason as he was being kissed for the first time, and when she leaned back and pulled the trigger, he died with a smile on his lips. It was a shaking sight but an act of grace and mercy since the boy, and he was certainly no man yet, had been deadly wounded by a shot in the guts. But he died __smiling,__ and what man could ask more of his demise..."_

Van Huuiten dropped the sheet and shook his head, yet he wasn't sure if he was exasperated or admiring her. It could well be a mixture of both. And strangely, he found it all too easy to see the scene before his inner eyes, her kissing the boy and shooting him, putting him out of his misery while comforting him in the most effective way there was...

With a deep and heavy breath, the governor took the third sheet, which was the account of doctor de Beer. He read it, pursed his lips and read it again, but his eyes had not deceived him. To rather die than leave her men untreated before her. He shook his head, and this time, it was admiration.

De Baanstedt's report revealed something completely different, again. Van Huuiten could not hide a faint smile as he could well imagine de Baanstedt's sour face as he read his words, relating how Imogen had left them, believed to head back for Curacao, only to return a few days later with her hull full of provisions and a few dairy goats meant for the inhabitants of Nassau, as to soften the blow of being conquered by the enemies. He wasn't surprised to read that Imogen had made sure that the dairy goats had been given to families with many children.

Leaning back in his chair, Lucas van Huuiten now picked up Imogen's own report and opened it. It was rather short and precise, and had he read this alone, he would not have been impressed. Yet this, this short and unadorned report, together with all the others he had now on his desk, shed a completely different light on how the whole event had happened.

The only thing that was not explained, however, was how the Dutch flag had come to be stained with blood.


	25. Chapter 23

**Chapter 2****3**

Upon entering his office, Imogen found the governor stand at the window and look down onto the street. The servant silently closed the door behind her.

"Governor?"  
"Captain Sparrow", he said without turning around. "I do have one question. Why was the Dutch flag you hoisted up over Nassau stained with blood?"  
Imogen swallowed and bit her thumb nail. "I had it tucked into my belt, Governor."  
"And why was that?"  
"I didn't want to leave it on my ship."  
"You didn't? Why? There were two Dutch soldiers on your ship, after all."  
"I... I don't quite know, sir. I just wanted to make sure it was kept safe. I didn't do a good job of it, as it seems."  
"I think you are wrong, Captain. You did the flag all the honour it deserved. And shedding your blood in service of the flag is certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Looking at your injuries, one can very well say that you have conquered Nassau with your blood."

A rather long silence followed these words.

"Captain Sparrow", he said then "You have seriously impressed me."  
"Have I?"  
He didn't answer for quite a while, but then finally turned around to face her, a strange smile on his lips. "You have." He walked over to his desk. "And I wish to congratulate you to your victory."  
"It wasn't precisely my victory, Governor", Imogen said slowly.  
"Oh, but it was. You might not be aware of it, but it was. It was you who was in charge of this mission, and van Rijmenant and de Baanstedt had their orders to take yours."  
Imogen stared at him for a few seconds. That was it? "Well... thank you, then, sir."

"Captain Sparrow", he began. "Can we celebrate this victory with a drink?"  
"Sir, I don't really..."  
"I insist." He was still smiling at her in that strange, unsettling way, and for some reason, Imogen knew that arguing would be futile.  
"Oh, very well."

She followed him then, through a door at the back of his office and up a flight of stairs, along another corridor and around a corner where she recognised the surroundings. He opened the door to his study for her and she passed him with a nod, forcing herself not to look at the cello leaning against the chair at the other end of the room.  
Imogen only dropped her hat onto the table beside her since due to the warmth of the day, she wasn't wearing a coat, and watched the governor open a cabinet and take out two glasses and a bottle.

"I do hope you will accept a glass of something other than rum?" He walked over to her, offering her a glass. She took it, and felt her heart skip a beat when their fingers touched accidentally.  
"Captain", he said. "To success."  
Not really sure what to make of his mood, Imogen lifted first her brows, then her glass. "To success. Whatever you mean with that."  
He stopped in midmove, the glass hovering before his lips. "Captain?"  
"Success in what? For whom?"  
Van Huuiten took a deep breath. "For you?", he offered. "For your future undertakings?"  
"Mine", Imogen said drily and van Huuiten slowly let the glass sink.

"Captain", he began in a sombre voice. "I see you are still bearing a grudge against me, and I cannot say you do not have very good reason to." With a sigh, he put the glass down onto the table beside him.  
"Governor", Imogen began. "I do not..." She broke off when she saw his face, however. His mask was slowly disintegrating again, and she was becoming very nervous as she watched him.  
"Captain Sparrow", he began in a very low voice. "My words have been thoughtless and offensive. And even while they may have contained the truth, I am fully aware that the truth is not always best spoken in..."  
"In clear words, Governor", Imogen interrupted him, an uneasy feeling in her stomach as to where this might be leading. "I do understand..."  
"No. No, you don't." He took a deep breath. "I cannot tell you to treat yourself with more self-respect and then spit something like this into your face, expecting you to swallow it. I should never have said these words." He swallowed. "I am sorry."

Imogen took a deep breath and shook her head, but before she could say anything, he repeated his words, looking at her intensely. "I am sorry, Captain. I really am."

Shaking her head, Imogen looked up at him, but something in his eyes made her swallow the reply she had meant to make, which was to snap at him that he was in no position to be sorry for anything with his rank so high above her. But then she realised that the both of them had, within the last minute, unconsciously leaned in towards each other, and realising this, she wrenched her eyes off his face and took a step back. "Apology accepted" she almost snapped. "I just..."  
He shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but overcome with a feeling of terror, Imogen took another step back. "I'd better be going, and now. A good day, governor."

She was fleeing, and she knew it. She didn't even turn around again before she shut the door behind her, but even as she did so, staring straight ahead, she couldn't move any further. A long forgotten memory washed over her like a wave.

_"Take him with __ye__. And if ye discover then ye don't like him, throw him overboard or drop him off or whatever, but at least ye won't have to worry for the rest of yer live about what could've been."  
"Like you do?"  
"Aye, like I do."  
"Jack, why didn't you tell her?"  
"I tried. But no matter what I said, it came out wrong. Or maybe she was hearing it wrong. And when it finally came to pass, it was my stupid pride that got in the way of me telling her what I truly felt. Yet the question remains if she would've believed me."  
"But why shouldn't she?"  
"Because I'm a pirate?__A villain, rogue, thief, liar and a scumbag?"  
"But she trusted you with her life…"  
"Aye.__ But not with her heart."_

She stared ahead, unmoving, unblinking, hearing these last words in her head, over and over again.

_She__ trusted you with her life... but not with her heart..._

And then she realised she hadn't even let go of the doorknob.

No. This wouldn't do. This just... it wouldn't do. She shook her head, but there was no way she could change anything about it. So she slowly turned the doorknob again, with trembling hands and a racing heart, but for some reason, the memory of her father, his face so lost in bitter regret, enabled her to tap into a source of strength she had not known she possessed.

"Captain?" He had turned around, his back to the door, and now slowly turned again to look at her as she entered, his hands folded behind his back. He also had removed his wig which was lying somewhat flattened on the desk, as if he had thrown it there from a distance.

Imogen looked at him, her face blank. "Forgot me hat."

The governor cast a long glance at the table, and Imogen cast a long glance at the table, then she walked straight past it to stand directly before him.

He slowly lifted one inquisitive eyebrow. "Captain...?", he asked again.  
Gritting her teeth, Imogen carefully laboured her left arm out of the sling and looked up into his face. "I'm afraid", she said simply. "I'm afraid of what will happen if I do it, but I just realised I'm more afraid of what will happen if I don't."  
"Do what, Captain?", he asked, dropping his hands, and Imogen reached out to lay both her hands on his cheeks and pulled his head down to hers.  
"Kiss you", she whispered, just before their lips met.

He didn't move, but he certainly didn't resist the kiss, quite the contrary. Yet the look in his eyes was strangely indefinable as she released his lips and he leaned back.  
"I thought we had agreed that this would never happen again", he said in a low voice, hardly more than a whisper.  
Imogen swallowed and managed a tiny smile. "I was feeling rather insubordinate just then, Governor."  
"I expected no more from you", he gave back with a twitch of his lips, yet as Imogen stiffened and was about to take a step back, he closed his arms around her. "And no less", he added with a faint smile and leaned forward to kiss her again, resting one hand on her back while the other slowly buried itself into her hair.

When they parted, both of them were a bit out of breath, and Imogen ran her hands through his hair, biting her lower lip, torn between breaking out in tears and laughing hysterically, her heart still racing inside her chest. "What a waste for a man", she finally whispered, trying to bite down the laughter that seemed to be winning. "What a waste for a man!"  
"Captain?", he asked, a faint hint of amusement playing around his lips.  
"Your hair..." She almost giggled. "I know some women would kill for hair like that, so blonde and so soft and silky..."  
Clearing his throat, he looked down at her. "Are you telling me that I do possess female features?"  
"No", she chuckled, her fingers still in his hair. "It's just..." She sighed and looked at his face again. "Oh god... what are we going to do now?"  
This time it was him who chuckled. "If with "now", you are referring to the near and ongoing future, then I have no idea. However, if with "now", you mean this precise moment in time, I certainly do."  
She swallowed. "Yes?"  
"Kiss you again", he said and did just that.

Seriously short of breath, they still only very reluctantly parted from each other. Finding him look sternly down at her, Imogen tried to calm her breath as she looked at him, not quite sure what to make of his expression.

"You know what vexes me most about this situation?", he asked her and she shook her head.  
"In all the stories you hear...", he continued, his arms still around her, "...and even me, in my station, cannot help but overhear the odd bit of them, it is always the pirate seducing the governor's daughter." He sighed, shook his head and suddenly, seemed to be biting back a grin. "And not...", he went on, trying to keep his voice stern, "... the pirate's daughter seducing the governor."

Imogen couldn't help but snort, try as she might to suppress it, but as she looked up, she found him loosing the fight against his own grin. Staring each other in helpless desperation, they both simultaneously burst out laughing, but even as she did so, she found herself so fascinated by his face when he finally laughed that she forgot her own laughter and just looked at him. She had never seen him do more than smile politely, lest even laugh, and it completely transformed his face, making him look years younger. She suddenly realised she had no idea how old he was, although she guessed him to be in his thirties.

He realised her stare on him and his laughter ebbed off in a chuckle and then a smile. "Yes?"  
"Nothing", she said, still smiling. "I'm just... enjoying the view."  
With a look in his eyes which seemed to communicate he did not quite believe that this was really happening, he lifted one hand up to her face, his smile very tender, all of a sudden. "Imogen", he whispered. "Imogen, I..."  
She hastily placed a hand on his lips and shook her head. "No..."  
He closed his hand around hers and drew it away, a slightly hurt expression on his face. "Why?"  
"Because..."  
"Because it is... just you?" He leaned forward a little more.  
"I..." She swallowed. "Basically... yes."  
"So?"  
She blinked. "So...?"  
"It is you", he said. "And you are what you are. No more, and certainly no less. And if you might be afraid I will not mean it, then rest assured, I know, by now, who and what you are. And what you are not."

Imogen swallowed heavily again and shook her head. "But you can't... you can't... I'm a pirate! What is it that you find in me, an uneducated, ill-mannered, lying, murdering, filthy pirate?"  
"Is that all you are?", he asked gently, bringing her up short. "I will not deny that possibly, you might have been or are all of this, although I dare to disagree with the filthy part. And since the general amnesty, you are no pirate any more. Not on Dutch soil. And I might remind you that Curacao is Dutch soil, Captain."  
"But..."  
"And in addition to that...", he went on, cupping her cheeks in his hands, "...we have begun to remedy the educational bit. And your manners have definitely improved greatly since first we met. I do not know about the lying part, but in dubio pro reo, I will think that you are not in the habit of it. As to the murdering, you are doing that in my order and in my name."

Unable to look away, Imogen was captured in his eyes yet again, listening to his words that, somehow, seemed to reach the core of her soul without bothering to go past her consciousness.

"And when all that is taken care of, all that I see is a beautiful soul", he added in a soft whisper. "You just do not realize how much you have changed, Imogen. You are no longer the girl you believe yourself to be, the one you remember. Admit it, to yourself if to no one else. You have changed. You have become a woman... I could fall in love with."  
"Governor...", she whispered, tears burning in her eyes. "I..."  
"Imogen." He sighed. "Can I ask you to be less... formal?"  
She swallowed and nodded.

"I remember what you said", he went on, his hands still on her cheeks, his voice still a whisper. "This is madness. It cannot work. It cannot last. I fully and wholeheartedly agreed with you, but not so any more. Frankly, I have stopped caring." He ran his thumbs along her cheekbones. "And I ask you if you can, maybe, for a small moment in time, within the here and now, forget what you are... and what you are not, as well as forget what I am... and what I am not." He kissed her, softly and gently, just a short brush of his lips on hers. "And maybe, if you find yourself able to, if we find ourselves able to, to be... just for a few short moments in time... just be... a man... and a woman." Capturing her eyes in his again, he took a deep breath. "Imogen..."  
"Governor..."  
"Imogen." He rested his forehead against hers. "I do have a name." Leaning back, he looked at her again. "You do know my name, don't you?"

Mutely, she nodded, unable to speak. She realised that his breathing was going fast and almost ragged, but so was hers. It _was_ madness... but if this was madness, then she would willingly howl at the moon for the rest of her life.

"Imogen", he whispered again. "Imogen... I..." He took another deep breath and nervously licked his lips. "Imogen, I love you."  
Even expecting it, Imogen found herself stupefied and rendered speechless. She could only swallow and stare at him, unable to either move or speak. But he was still looking at her, expecting a reply... any kind of reply, but she couldn't...

She couldn't _not_!

Taking a deep breath, Imogen tried to calm her own breathing, trying to say the word that was so immensely reluctant to part from her lips. She tried it again, this time managed to get her tongue into obedience to form the first letter, but not more. She bit her lower lip, tried it again, and failed again. And then suddenly, she felt his lips on hers again, soft and warm and gentle, and she slung her arms around his neck in what was almost desperation.  
He smiled tenderly down at her as he leaned back and she took another deep breath. And then it was finally there.

"Lucas...", she whispered, and bit her lip again, torn again between laughing and crying. She did neither, swallowing her panic, and tried it again, just because his eyes had widened as much as his smile. His beautiful, silver eyes.  
"Lucas." She ran her hands through his hair, chewed her lower lip for a few seconds and took another deep breath. "I..." Then she shook her head and when she looked up again into his eyes, her fear slowly dissolved and was replaced by something else... something that was as exciting, but that was certainly not fear.  
"Lucas", she whispered for the third time. "Ik hou van jou."

It was that moment that his face finally fell completely apart. His eyes widening, he stared at her in sheer, desperate disbelief as if he dared not trust his ears yet hoped against all hopes that he truly had been hearing those words.  
"Imogen..." It was hardly audible anymore and Imogen smiled again, swallowed and buried her fingers into his hair.  
"Lucas. Ik hou van jou."

He shook his head, his stare slowly transforming into a smile, then he slung his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing her head against his shoulder with one hand while burying his face into her curls. "Where did you learn that?", he finally muttered into her hair.  
"I picked it up somewhere", she gave back, locking her arms around his body.  
"Do you have the faintest idea what that meant to me?", he whispered, leaning back to look at her.  
She lifted her face to look up to him and smiled. "I saw it."

And when he kissed her then again, she didn't feel any kind of fear any more, for in this moment, this small moment in time, he was nothing more and nothing less than a man. And she, his woman. No more. And certainly no less.


	26. Chapter 24

**Chapter 2****4**

Imogen wasn't quite sure what to expect when she landed in Wilhelmstad again. She had relived the moments over and over, the kisses, the words, the way he had touched her, and what they had spoken about as they had parted. Yet she could not imagine how she would be welcomed, and she felt a little shy and nervous to meet him again.

_"I am not sure what to do with you now." __He smiled down at her. "This is going to cause a major scandal once it gets known, and I cannot imagine it remaining secret for very long. Things like these usually don't."  
Imogen looked up and swallowed. "Maybe we should..."  
"Most definitely", he gave back and placed his fingers under her chin to give her a short, yet gentle kiss. "I do not intend to have any kind of gossip ruin my sleep."  
She took a step back and looked at her feet. "I do under..."  
"I am afraid you don't, or I have expressed myself inadequately", he interrupted her and took her hands. "What I meant was maybe we should not care. I gather you were implying we should not meet again."  
Imogen dared to look up at him again and smiled shyly. "Well... yes."_

_He pulled her close again and looked sternly into her eyes. "Imogen. I will not suffer anyone, no matter __who__, tell me that this is wrong. It may be foolish, it may be unwise, it may even be mad. But it is not wrong."  
She reached up and laid her hands on his cheeks. "It may be wrong for anyone else but us."  
"Maybe. But strictly speaking, this concerns no one else but us. I know I am deluding myself, since especially in my case, society has a watchful eye on me. I do not intend to boast it, Captain. But I will not hide it away in shame should we ever be found out."  
"Back to being formal again, are we?", she said with a smile. "I liked the way you said "we", Governor."_

_He raised his eyebrows and sighed. "Yes, I guess it is back to being formal again. But just to ease your mind: the general amnesty is greatly aiding us. Before, it was something unthinkable, despicable. Now, it is still not appropriate, but it can at least be tolerated. It might tarnish my reputation, but it is not going to cause me any serious problems."  
"Reassuring", Imogen said and stepped free of his embrace. "I do wonder, though, to what degree we will have to aim for secrecy?"  
"With us seeing each other for less than a day once every __month__? It might take a while, Captain."  
She nodded and he smiled softly. "I will miss you."  
Taking a deep breath, Imogen stepped forward again and, standing on tiptoe, was able to give him another quick kiss. "I shall miss __ye__ too, and fiercely." Then she stepped back again.  
"Governor." Smiling at him as he tried to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching, she picked up her hat and bowed, with less flourish than she would have liked to, but with her arm in the sling again, it just didn't work as well. _

She had been supposed to rest the arm, yet during the few hours she had spent with him, she had not quite rested it. Not that they had done anything other than kiss. But she had moved the arm quite a bit as she had tousled his hair, caressed his cheeks and ran her hands up and down his back when they had kissed. She had paid for that with a fierce throbbing in the arm that had lasted for days. Even now, four weeks later, it was still a bit tender to the touch.

Strange, she thought as she just now realised that she had, indeed, done nothing more than kiss him. She had told him she loved him, and it was nothing but the truth. But even though... she hadn't even had done so much as slip her hand under his shirt. And hadn't even thought about it.

_„Isn't that going rather… fast?"  
„What did ye expect? I'm a pirate. I won't wait for ye to marry me, Bill__."_

She slowly crossed her arms as that particular memory came back to haunt her. Life had been a lot easier then... when she had just been a pirate lass. Naught more.

_„Come to bed with me."  
„But…"  
"No but. And yes, I am that kind of girl. I'm a pirate, aye?"_

That kind of girl. She felt a wry grin on her face. That kind of girl... and that girl was gone. She had disappeared, leaving a trail of blood, tears and destruction behind. But utterly, irrevocably gone. And Imogen was grateful for that.  
Easier maybe. But certainly not better. Or maybe that was just her point of view with knowing what she knew now. With being whom she was now. She was pretty sure, had someone asked the Imogen of two years ago what was better, the answer had been clear. And probably combined with a kick in the bollocks. She shook herself.

_"You are no longer the girl you believe yourself to be, the one you remember. Admit it, to yourself if to no one else. You have changed. You have become a woman that I... that I could fall in love with."_

No, that girl had been someone who was a disaster waiting to happen. And she had brought quite a bit of disaster with her wherever she went. But bad luck... Now, bad luck had little to do with it. She remembered well she had told her father that she didn't know anymore who the bird of bad luck was, she or her ship. But looking back now, she could only admit to herself that bad luck had had little to do with her personal disasters.

It had been her inability in dealing with her feelings after what had happened to her, and her refusal to have someone help her. Refusing to talk and even think about what had happened to her had only produced a festering wound in her soul, a wound that had poisoned her and everyone else with her. The few words she had spat at Billy had not been enough, even if she had made herself believe so.

If she only could remember! For some reason, that was the worst bit. She could talk and talk and talk... but the really devastating bit was that she couldn't even remember what had happened to her. Her body remembered, and even as she had enjoyed the few times she had been with Billy afterwards, her body had cringed in agony whenever he had touched her.

And with that realisation, a sudden panic struck her that this might happen if... when... should she ever...

She closed her hands around the railing. She had never been with a man since that last time in Port Royal. And she could well remember that while she had enjoyed it, she had to force herself to do so. There had been something evil, something... defiling lurking underneath all those good feelings Billy had been able to induce in her. And the thought that the same defiling poison was still there, waiting to ruin the moment when she could, if she ever would, lay down in _his_ arms... the thought filled her with panic.

Yes, she had changed. Beyond recognition, sometimes. But she was not finished yet. There was one last demon left to fight.

x x x x x x x x

"Captain Sparrow." The governor smiled at her as she entered his office. "Take a seat."  
"Thank you, sir."  
He mustered her and slowly tilted his head. "Is something wrong, Captain?"  
Was she that bad off? She took a deep breath. "I need your help, Governor."  
He folded his hands on his desk. "What is it I can help you with, Captain?"

Imogen inhaled deeply and realised that no, this wouldn't do, either. "I think I phrased this wrong", she said.  
He looked at her in mild confusion.  
"I need your help, Lucas", she said then and he slowly leaned forward.  
"What is it I can help you with, Imogen?", he asked, his voice gentle.  
She stared at him, unsure how to put it into words, not sure if she was really doing the right thing, but feeling compelled to try. "I..." She broke off and looked down again. "I have yet to fight another demon."  
He narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I am afraid I do not quite understand."  
"You wouldn't", she said in a low voice. "But to explain all this I would take me a tremendous amount of time and I..."

"I think that whatever it is..." he interrupted her and slowly got up, "... it is best discussed in a bit more privacy."  
"I don't think I should take that much of your time...", Imogen began, all of a sudden not so sure any more if this was really a good idea.  
"As you so rightly put it, it is my time, and I decide how to make use of it. It is rather late in the day, anyway." He indicated towards the door and with a sigh, Imogen got up and followed him into his private study.

Flopping down on the divan without even waiting for him to invite her to sit, Imogen stared at him as he filled two glasses with brandy and handed her one. It was a rather generous measure and she downed it in one go.  
"Captain Sparrow", he said as he sat down beside her. "That is a rather expensive spirit and is meant to be savoured, not gulped down."  
"Sorry, sir."  
"I see that something seriously bothers you." He leaned over and took one of her hands in his. "Imogen. What is wrong?"  
"I can't remember."  
"Remember... what?"  
She slowly looked up at him. "That I've been raped."  
He took a deep breath and gently squeezed her hand. "What is there I can do?"

He hadn't even blinked. Hadn't even asked her what the hell she was talking about, as if he had known it all along. Had he? "What do you know?", she asked, searching his eyes.

He looked down at her hands for a second before looking at her again. "Everything, Imogen."  
She felt sudden panic rise in her. "Where from?"  
"From your father."

She stared at him, unable to even do so much as blink.

"Imogen, he wrote me a letter, quite a while ago. He asked me..." He leaned forward and placed his other hand on her shoulder. "He asked me to be his grandson's godfather, and in this letter he explained the whole sad story of what had befallen you and, in the end, led to this unlucky event that... happened in my office."  
"You know", she whispered. "God... you know everything?"  
"I am afraid I do. Quite a bit at least, although most certainly not everything.", he said gently, trying to keep her calm. But it was unnecessary.  
She shook her head and swallowed. "You have no idea how much easier this makes it for me", she whispered.

She removed his hands from his grasp and turned around again, leaning forward and clasping her hands between her knees. "I can't remember. I know he raped me, but I can't remember it. I know it'll come back to haunt me as soon..." she swallowed. "As soon as a man touches me again. I know it. And I don't want it to happen again. I don't want to be defiled again. Or have the feeling defiled. I can't. But I cannot forget it because I can't remember!" She ended with almost a shout of frustration and shook her head in anger. "I can't remember."

"Imogen", he said softly, leaning forward. "What is it I can do for you?"  
She looked at him again. "I need you to watch over me."  
He wrinkled his forehead.  
"I need someone whom I can trust blindly and absolutely", she said simply, since any fine words were by now deluding her. "I intend to go back to where I was."  
"I do not understand", he whispered and Imogen reached into a pocket in her vest and produced a small bottle.  
"What is this?"  
"A hair of the dog that bit me."  
"And... what is it?"  
"Opium."  
"_Goede_ _god..._"(1)

"Lucas." She looked at him. "I can think of no other way. I have to remember in order to forget. Otherwise the memories will haunt me for the rest of my life. The memories that I cannot remember. Hovering just out of my reach... like claws scratching on the door outside, shadows hovering at the edge of my vision. And they will taint every moment I spent with a man. This might be the only thing... that can open the door."The door to hell. Leaving no way to tell if she ever would be able to close that door again.

He swallowed heavily and nodded. "I see. I understand, although probably not completely."

Imogen shrugged. "I don't quite understand it, myself. This is the only thing I can think of that could help me remember, and by god, I don't want to remember it. But if I don't, I will never..." she broke off, and Lucas chose this moment to pull her close, closing his arms around her.  
"I do understand, now", he said gently. "Tell me what I have to do."

Imogen rested her head against his shoulder for a little while before she looked up at him. "Just watch over me. I didn't want to do this and be alone. Last time I was about to lose myself, and it was only my father's voice that saved me from the void. I don't know if I could have found my way back without it, but I don't want to take that chance." She looked at the bottle. "God, I'm scared stiff."  
"I will watch over you", he said in a low voice, looking at her earnestly. "Do whatever you think it is you have to do."

Imogen uncorked the little bottle with trembling hands. "I have no clue how long it'll take to wear off again. A few hours was what the guy said who sold it told me. If I drink it all at once. He said it brings pleasant dreams if you just take a few drops. But I remember, and it is about the last thing I remember, that he made me drink the whole bottle in one go. A few hours, which means he's given me the stuff a few times. But this bottle is smaller... A few hours. Hopefully."

Looking at him again, she could feel her lips trembling, as well as her hands. She felt cold with fear, and was almost unable to bring the bottle to her lips. Closing her eyes, she swallowed a few times, trying to summon the courage to do this, and with a last glance at his slightly worried face, she brought the bottle to her lips and tilted her head.

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(1) Great god...


	27. Chapter 25

Author's note: And because it's my birthday today, I'll update two chapters! Enjoy!

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**Chapter 2****5**

With a decidedly uneasy feeling, Lucas watched her empty the bottle and swallow its contents. He could very well see that she was terrified, and that she also had to fight the urge to spit the substance out again and had to force herself to keep it down.

She looked at him then, trying to smile, probably to reassure herself as much as him, but her chin suddenly dropped and her eyelids fluttered while her head started lolling sideways. It was a rather unsettling sight. Then she fell backwards into the divan, her head flopping back, and he watched with a cold heart as her pupils shrank into two tiny dots while her eyes widened to an extent that looked painful.

He had been taken rather unawares by the events, and only now it occurred to him that it might have been a good idea to consult Doctor de Beer before doing something like this. What was he supposed to do if something went wrong?  
He would have to summon him then... but maybe it was not necessary. He would rather take the chance and not explain to anyone, not even the doctor, why someone had poisoned themselves with opium on the divan in his private study.

_"__I need someone whom I can trust blindly and absolutely.__"_

In other circumstances, he should have been flattered. This, however, was more frightening than anything else, yet he was determined to do whatever it was he could do to assist her. And the way her body suddenly stiffened, relocating her seemed like a good idea.

So he gathered her up into his arms and carried her through the door into his adjacent bedroom, lowering her carefully onto the bed.

She could have prepared herself a bit better, but then, on the other hand, making haste was probably the only chance she had had to overcome her fear. He couldn't really blame her for that, so he sighed and decided that it was up to him now, to take care of her. He had promised he would. So he not only removed her boots but also her belt and the leather vest, trying to make her comfortable with her head on the pillow.

Her eyes were still wide open, but now she slowly began to move again, first her head, then her hands. Her head tossed to and fro, her hands clenched and unclenched, and a deep, low moan escaped her lips. Her legs started to twitch, as well.  
Watching her, Lucas could not help but remember what the letter had revealed to him. And by the way she acted now, it seemed that her plan had worked, for whatever good it would do her. She was flailing her hands before her and moaning the word no over and over again.  
But what was she really dreaming of now? A nightmare, to be sure. But was it really the memories, or something entirely different? More nightmares and nothing won with it?

He leaned forward a little, looking closely at her face.  
"Daddy..."  
He shuddered. Her voice was... dead. Filled with a nameless, dull horror. He had never in his life heard someone speak like that and slowly crossed himself.  
"Help me..."  
"Imogen..."  
"No!"

Holy Virgin Mary, why should anyone have to endure something like that? She was writhing in agony, but all in an eerie, suffocated silence. It was almost unbearable to watch, and to imagine being in her skin... it made him feel physically sick.  
The worst part was that he could do nothing but watch her suffer. He leaned back in his chair, watching her face which was frozen in horror, listening to her ragged breathing, and silently prayed that whatever she had been hoping to achieve, this would be really worth it.

She suddenly stiffened and bend her back into an impossible angle, arching her hips as if someone was trying to lift her by dragging her up at the belt. He leaned forward again, touching her arm in the dim hope to somehow be able to comfort her, but his hand flinched back as if he had burned himself. The muscles in her arm were as hard as wood. Her whole body was clenched stiff and a low groan came from her lips.

Then she slumped back again and with a soft wail, curled herself up into a ball, hiding her head under her arms.

He leaned forward again. "Imogen?"

She whispered something, but with her head under her arms, her face pressed into the pillow, he could not understand her. So he got up and walked around the bed, lowered himself into a crouch and leaned forward to be as close to her face as possible. "Imogen...", he said again and reached hesitatingly out to touch her. Even through the fabric of her shirt he could feel the coldness on her skin, but now she was completely limp.

"Jack..."  
It sounded almost like a wail, were it not for the fact that she was almost whispering.  
"Jack... Daddy..."

_"__...and it was only my father's voice that saved me from the void...__"_

He had no idea what exactly she had meant with "the void", but he imagined it to be something dark and frightening that threatened to claim her soul and drag it away forever. Swallowing heavily, he ran a hand through her hair, leaning even closer, and whispered into her ear. "Imogen..."  
Would it help? He was not her father, after all. But... He was someone whom she had said she trusted. "Imogen. "  
"Help me..."  
"Imogen."  
"Where..."  
"Here. I am here. Come back to me." He was, by now, seriously frightened, more than he cared to admit. Carefully he lifted one of her eyelids, but her stare was still empty, her pupils still no more than tiny dots. "Imogen."  
She wailed softly and dug her hands into the pillow, breathing raggedly. "Help... me... where are ye... where... are... you..."

_"__...I was about to give up...And then I heard the music... I didn't know where it was coming from, but I knew that it would lead me... to safety...__"_

Staring down at her pale and frozen face, Lucas took a deep breath. "Well, so be it." With one decisive movement, he got up again and walked over to the door. Casting another glance over his shoulder at her, he opened the door to the study and settled down in the chair, picked up the bow and closed his eyes. Forcing himself to calm down and concentrate, it took him a few minutes until he trusted himself to play halfway decently.

He realised as he played that the music had a calming effect on himself, as well. And concentrating on what he was doing kept his mind from dwelling all too deeply into what he had seen and what his mind was trying to make of it. So he tried to concentrate as best as possible, for himself as much as for her. It was not her father's voice... but it was something that he knew had helped her before fight her way back from a dark abyss. As strange as that seemed.

He guessed he had played for roughly half an hour before he heard a movement in the door and, letting the last note dwindle away, he cautiously looked up to find her leaning in the doorway, pale, slightly dishevelled, and looking at him out of eyes burning with tiredness.

"How are you?"  
She shrugged. "Awfully Tired. I hurt." Her voice was hoarse and cracked.  
"Can I..." He was about to get up but she waved at him to remain seated as she slowly walked over and lowered herself to the ground before him.  
"Play something, please..."

He silently nodded and watched her closely as he did so. She slung her arms around herself and closed her eyes as he began to play, and rocked her upper body back and forth while her head dropped forward. And Lucas found he could watch this no longer than the one piece he played. He put down the bow as he had finished this and got up.

"Imogen", he said gently as he lowered himself down beside her.  
She slowly opened her eyes and he had to swallow heavily. Whatever she had witnessed and gone through, it had left marks on her soul. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she flinched and leaned back. "Don't touch me!"  
"I am sorry, I did not mean to..."  
"I know..." She said in a leaden voice. "It's just..." Taking a deep breath, she slung her arms around herself again. "I don't want to... be touched by you. But not because of you. Because of what I remember."  
"And... what do you remember?" Not that he wanted to know, but he had to ask.  
She looked at him again. "Everything."

They silently stared at each other for a while before she started to talk again, her voice still a hoarse whisper. "I remember", she began, not taking her eyes off his. "The first time, he just threw me down and took me. It was over very quickly. But the next time he..." she swallowed and had to force herself to go on. "The next time he did it slowly. He touched me, everywhere... but he was... he was almost gentle. He... as if he didn't mean to hurt me..."

She started rocking back and forth again. It looked so desperate that Lucas had to force himself not to touch her.

"As if he wanted me to enjoy it. And whatever it was he did to me, a part of my body did. He made me want it!" She buried her face in her hands and sobbed softly, breathing raggedly through her fingers. "He made me want it, by god, I didn't want to, but he made my body enjoy it. I..." She broke off and looked up again, staring at him with her eyes burning. "The next time he just took me again. He never warned me. I never knew when he came if he was doing the one or the other. And I didn't know, I still don't, if I should have died from pain or shame."

Listening to her, Lucas felt as if he was slowly being buried under something heavy and cold. No wonder had there been an edge to her, and no wonder had she used her body in a way as if she had been hating it for treachery, even if she had not consciously remembered. But now, now that she did... what would it do to her? "Imogen", he said gently. "Please, do not blame yourself..."  
She wiped a hand across her face. "I'm not blaming me. I'm blaming him, and he's dead now. That's almost the worst bit, somehow. I can't go find him and tell him he didn't break me. Because that's what he wanted. Break me. But the really worst bit is that..." She shook herself and tried to suppress a sob. "The really worst bit is that he didn't care. I meant nothing. He wanted to hurt my father, not me. I was completely meaningless to him. He couldn't have cared less about me, he didn't even hate me. He just used me as a means to hurt my father."

She fell silent and stared down at her hands again. Not knowing what he could possibly say, he just watched her, trying to think of something he could possibly do or say that could offer some kind of comfort.

"And that's why I can't have ye touch me", she whispered without looking up. "Because I feel defiled. And if ye touch me, I'm afraid that it'll defile what is between us." She swallowed. "Because that's what happened with me an' Billy. Every time he touched me, I cringed. Everything he did felt... felt right, but at the same time wrong. It died. It died..."

With a grunt, Imogen suddenly laboured onto her feet again and hastily walked over to the window, slinging her arms around her. Watching her, Lucas slowly got up himself and followed her, yet kept his distance.

"I want my body back", she whispered, still not looking at him. "I goddamn want my body back. He took it from me, and it's not mine anymore. And I can't even kill him for it 'cause he's dead already. I can't take it back, and no one can give it back to me."  
"Imogen..." Lucas felt as if he had swallowed a barrel of ice. It caused him physical pain to see her like that.  
She finally looked up at him. "That's why I killed them. I couldn't stand the thought of someone else having their way with me again, and again just suffering it and ... go on as if nothing had ever happened."  
"Van der Vegt and van Dijk?"  
She slowly let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling. "Yes."

Lucas took a deep breath. He had wondered. He had almost guessed it to be something like it. "I do understand, Imogen. I do. I am not blaming you for killing them."  
"You did."  
"I did. Then. But knowing what I know now..." He shook his head and sighed. "Knowing what I know now, I understand, and I do not blame you anymore." He reached out to touch her shoulder again and again, she flinched back.

"Don't touch me!"  
"Imogen..."  
"No!"  
"Listen to me!"  
"You don't know anything!"  
He dropped his arm again. "No", he said, his voice toneless. "I do not know. But I see. I just want to comfort you, Imogen, please..."  
"Billy tried it, it didn't work. It just destroyed everything." She seemed to be fighting her tears again.  
"Imogen", he said as gently as he could. "I will not pretend I know better than you. But I do say now that I think myself to be someone else than... Billy. Whoever he is."

She stared at him, her eyes slowly widening. Her breathing quickened and she swallowed heavily, then the look in her eyes slowly changed, from hopelessness into yet something else he couldn't quite name. Pleading?  
"No", she whispered tonelessly. "It's not... you are..."  
"Imogen, I..."  
"Lucas..." She took a hesitating step forward and he took a deep breath. Another long moment of silence followed in which she stared at him in desperation and he looked down at her with his heart clenching in agony. After what seemed like an eternity, she took a deep breath that was almost a gasp for air and slowly and hesitatingly, lifted a trembling hand that she rested against his chest, on his heart. He cautiously placed his own around hers and she looked up at him and bit her lower lip. "Billy was a boy I fancied", she whispered. "But you are the man I love."

Then she took a step forward and fell against him with a sob, and as he closed his arms around her, holding her as tightly as possible, she pressed her face into his shoulder and went violently and thoroughly to pieces, wailing into his shoulder like a child.

And then, finally, it all broke out of her in ragged, sobbed words, as if a flash flood had shattered the damns holding back all those memories and emotions. Unable to keep anything to herself anymore, she told him everything then, everything she could remember, everything that had happened afterwards, and everything she had done.  
The abbey, the storm, the orcas.  
What had happened between her and Bill.  
She told him about Morgan and her words, about what she had said to her, Billy and what she had done to him, about her father and what she had done to him.  
About the men she killed, the almost-mutiny, everything, and didn't even spare herself to go through the shameful memories of what had happened in his office.

"God, I was feeling so smug and thought I could pocket you like any other man before... I can't believe that I've been so stupid", she whispered. "Forgive me, please..."  
"I already have", he replied and ran a hand through her hair.  
"I was so ashamed and I'm still so ashamed, I can never forget that..."  
"Imogen, please..."

She clung to him in desperation, yet was unable to stop herself. As if it all had to get out at once.

Lucas could only stroke her back and listen as she went on, still sobbing uncontrollably, as she went through what had happened in Tortuga, how Morgan had saved her, and how Josh had been born. And how, in the end, she had given him up.  
It made his heart ache to see her so devastated.

When her sobs finally ebbed off into ragged breaths and she began to calm down somewhat, he carefully leaned back a little to look at her, yet seeing her look at him completely beside herself with agony and desperation, he wordlessly gathered her up into his arms again and carried her to the divan where he sat down with her, settling her sideways on his lap. She let her head fall against his shoulder as he closed his arms around her again and seemed to calm down a little more. He continued to hold her, staring straight ahead, and only looked down at her when he felt her left arm suddenly slip down.

Overcome by exhaustion, her face leaning against his chest, she had fallen asleep.

And as Lucas looked at her sleeping face, suddenly so relaxed, with a small and almost angelic smile on her lips, he realised that she would need a very strong man to love her. He knew himself to be a strong man, but he didn't know if it was enough.

Watching her face, he silently prayed, begging god to make him strong enough for her. But then again, he thought as he watched her smile... maybe he was.


	28. Chapter 26

**Chapter 2****6**

Imogen slept for the better part of an hour. She wasn't aware of this, but as she slowly surfaced into consciousness again, the first thing she realised was that she wasn't in a bed but sitting somewhere. The next thing she realised was that she was sitting on someone's lap in someone's arms and, for some reason, sheer panic gripped her at this realisation. She shot upright with a gasp and cracked her forehead painfully against Lucas' chin whose head jerked backward with a muffled grunt.

"Holy god, Imogen...", he muttered and looked down at her again, gingerly touching his jaw.  
"Oh god... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."  
"What in all the...", he began as she tried to struggle free from his embrace. "Imogen?"  
"I... She broke off, looking at him almost terrified. "I fell asleep."  
He sighed. "Yes. You were rather exhausted after that endeavour."  
"I'm sorry..."  
"Please." He took a deep breath and then rested his hand on her cheek. "You have no reason to apologize. You just seemed in dire need of some rest and I did not want to wake you up with dragging you around."  
Imogen swallowed and managed a smile, if a bit shy one. "Thank you."  
"How do you feel now?", he asked her in a gentle voice.  
She took a deep breath but didn't avoid his eyes. "Still rotten. But different, somehow. I can't quite put my finger on it. But I think I feel relieved."

He kept looking at her and gently ran his thumb along her cheekbone. Imogen closed her eyes with a sigh. "I was rather afraid that once I open that door, I wouldn't be able to close it again. But now that I did..." She opened her eyes again to look at him. "Now that I did it almost seems as if... whatever was behind it is not half as bad as it seemed than when it was still locked in. Or it has just all spilled out and... I don't know. All over the place. Trickling away."

He looked at her but smiled when she did. "Is there anything else I could do for you?"  
She hesitatingly reached out and touched his cheek. "I don't know but... but right now I've got the feeling you're doing quite a lot already."  
"That gladdens my heart. Do you want another drink, maybe?"  
Imogen shook her head. "No. I want you."  
"Imogen?"  
"Lucas", she whispered, with more urgency this time. "I want you. Please. Make love to me."  
Taking a deep breath, Lucas leaned his head a little closer to hers, his hand still on her cheek. "Imogen, I do not think this a good idea, right now."  
"Please..."  
"Imogen." He kissed her forehead. "You are still wounded. And please do not think this means nothing to me. It does. You have no idea how much it means to me that you would trust me so deeply as to give yourself to me after... after what you have gone through."

He searched her eyes and went on, caressing her cheek with his fingers. "But you are still wounded, in soul if not in body. You need some time to heal, Imogen. I will gladly comply to all your wishes, but not now. For if something, even the slightest bit, goes wrong now, then it will definitely, not just likely, taint or destroy what is now between us. You need to recover and rebuild the walls of your soul. You are too vulnerable right now. Please, I do not wish to hurt you, not even unintentionally, not even the slightest bit."  
"But you want it", she gave back in a husky voice. "I know you want it. I'm sitting right..."  
"Of course I want it", he interrupted her with a mildly hurt expression on his face. "I am only a man, Imogen. But presently, I am trying to be stronger than my body."  
She swallowed and tried to bite back her tears as she reached out and placed her hands on his cheeks. "I'm sorry", she whispered. "I'm sorry, Lucas. I love you..."  
He smiled tenderly down at her. "And I love you, Imogen. I hope you believe me when I say that if I would not love you so much I would not care about your soul but just take the body you are offering to me."

"Lucas." She blinked away her tears, with moderate success. "You are too good for me. I don't think I truly deserve someone like you."  
He closed his eyes with a deep sigh and when he opened them to look at her again, she could see a sheen of moisture in them. "Imogen..."  
She swallowed. "I'm afraid. God, I am afraid of what I might do to you."  
"...what?"  
"I brought disaster with me wherever I went", she whispered, her lower lip trembling. "I brought disaster over everyone I loved and I..."  
He silenced her by pressing two fingers on her lips. "Stop. At once. Stop that." He looked sternly down at her. "Will you stop?" When she nodded, he slowly removed his fingers. "Now listen to me. I take it you are referring to your past again. I thought we had settled that."  
"I..."  
"No, you will listen to me now, and you will not interrupt me."  
Imogen swallowed and he kissed her forehead again, thus taking the edge out of his words.

"Imogen. I can see you still seem to believe you carry bad luck around with you like a cloak. That you bring doom to all those around you. I will tell you now what I think of this. And I will use a word that, under normal circumstances, would never pass my lips but that, in present circumstances, might be the only one that will reach you and that you will understand, and may it just be by the sheer fact that it is coming from me." He leaned forward, slowly narrowed his eyebrows and said very pointedly and resolutely: "Bullshit."

She jerked back and blinked, but even as she realised her mouth was agape, he took a deep breath. "I have not finished. I will elaborate my point of view further and more deeply than this one word." He cleared his throat. "No doubt your life has been a comparatively easy one, being the daughter of a pirate and thus having no barriers whatsoever restraining you when you grew up. Having never experienced, most likely, that sometimes, there is a line you should not cross. Or even should not have crossed, for that matter." He cleared his throat again.

"And thus, suddenly being confronted with a situation that so completely escaped your control was most likely as bad as the fact of what he did to you, in itself. Am I right?"  
She could only nod. Morgan had said as much, as well, from what she could remember.  
"I thought as much. You are allowed to contradict me, just do not interrupt me."

He took another deep breath. "So after that, you were not only faced with the physical aftermath of being raped and abused but also with a shattered belief in your own strength. You tried to get into control again... and probably just did not know when to stop any more. And with that, you probably had to experience that some things will break if you hold them too tightly. Fearing to lose what was left, you held that even tighter... and broke it, as well. You brought disaster with you, but I would go so far as to say that you brought it on yourself, all the while. "

He looked at her again and brushed a few strands of hair from her face. "If I ever have seen a soul who has gone through purgatory while still being on earth, then it is yours, Imogen", he said slowly. "You have been through all fires of hell, and you also have the scars and the ashes to prove it. And yet you emerged again from the ashes and left behind what you were before." He sighed and kissed her forehead again before he went on.

"Your deeds were not a chain of bad luck. It was a chain of your own actions, misled and misguided as they were. You were a broken soul, dangerous to yourself and others. By god, I have looked into your eyes, Imogen. And what I saw then scared me. I never wanted to humiliate you like that, but you left me no choice. I had to draw the line then."  
"I do understand", she whispered. "I am..."  
"And if you say you are sorry, I will slap you again. I have not finished yet."  
She swallowed any other reply.  
"Doubtlessly, you had to be punished. Doubtlessly, someone killing helpless men in cold blood because they are inconvenient, or flogging their lover, or insulting and kicking their father deserves a punishment. And a punishment is precisely what you got, Imogen. That, and a second chance."

Suddenly remembering what had happened earlier, Imogen swallowed heavily and was not quite sure if she should be feeling relieved that he knew or more desperately ashamed because he knew. But there had been no way not to tell him. It was as if something inside her had forced all those words out of her.

"I cannot say I did not ponder a few thoughts about this all. You have done great wrongs, Imogen. But you have been punished for it. And faced with the final trial, you made the right choice. Because your soul had been cleansed."

Looking deeply into her eyes, he seemed to try and reach the core of her soul with his stare. And she could only look back in the feeling that he truly did. But even though, the meaning of his last words escaped her. "I don't quite understand that bit", she whispered.  
Taking another deep breath, Lucas ran a hand through her hair. "I'd dare say you finally discovered the worth of a soul, Imogen."  
Tears fell from her eyes and Imogen had no way to hold them back as she realized what he meant. "Josh..." Still locked in his gaze, she gave up on fighting them and just let them flow.

He gently wiped them from her cheeks. "I see you understand. Yes, you realised the worth of a life, of a soul and of true love. And this is what saved you, Imogen. Regret for what you did and the will to make up for it is only part of it. The true salvation comes from your own heart, from your deepest soul. And you got it the moment you gave up your child because you would rather part from him than have him endangered. A selfless act of utter, unconditional love. And only with this love that you found could you become someone new and enable your soul to rise from the ashes and embrace life again."

He kissed her again, gently and softly. When he leaned back with a tender smile, he was close to tears himself. "And if you curse the path that lies behind you, never forget that it led you to where you are now. And please, do tell me: do you like where you are now?" He closed his arms a little tighter around her and Imogen swallowed, but there was no way she could possibly deny it. "I do."  
He smiled faintly. "I thought as much." Looking at her intensely, he took another deep breath. "Imogen. I do believe that god has forgiven you. If only you could forgive yourself."

"You do believe that, don't you", she whispered then and touched his cheek with her forefinger.  
"Of course I do."  
"I always imagined that he has not much to spare for the likes of me..."  
"He cares for everyone, Imogen. He sees the fall of the tiniest sparrow."  
Imogen gave him a questioning look.  
"Did I just say that?" Lucas slowly raised his eyebrows.  
She almost smiled. "I think you did."  
He cleared his throat. "Yet it is nothing but the truth, Imogen."  
"The truth?"  
"As written in his holy book. You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free."  
"Who said that?"  
"The apostle John, Imogen. Heavens, have you ever read a bible in your life?"  
She swallowed. "Can't say I have..." Then she avoided his eyes.

"Imogen", he said, sounding deeply worried. "Have you even been baptized?"  
She shrugged, daring even less now to look at him. "I guess so", she said cautiously. "I wouldn't know, but I mean... everyone is baptized, aren't they? Why should I..."  
"Imogen, for god's sake... and for your own..." He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back, swallowing heavily. "You should..."  
"What?"

He stared at her. "Imogen. Do you not care about your soul?"  
"I guess I do, but..."  
"So if you do not..."  
"Lucas. Listen to me."  
He shut his mouth and nodded.

"If I believe in god, now, all of a sudden, then I would have to believe in hell and the devil, as well, don't I? And if I do, then there's no way I can escape that since I broke so many commandments in my life that I can't remember if there's one I haven't..."  
"Imogen!" He took her hand in his. "That is why you ask his forgiveness. Thus is the fate of man, that he shall fail whereas only god cannot. But if you regret and ask his forgiveness, than you shall have it. He promised it!"

They looked at each other for a long, silent moment. Then, with a final sigh, Lucas dislocated her from his lap, but gently, then got up, took her hands in his and helped her up in turn.Without another word, he left her and went into his bedroom only to return a few moments later with a book.  
"Here. It is mine. It was given to me by my father when I received the Holy Communion and I want you to have it now."  
"Lucas, I..."  
"Please."

With a deep sigh, Imogen took the offered bible and opened it, then wrinkled her forehead.  
"Oh..." He swallowed. "I forgot that it is printed in Dutch..."  
Imogen closed it again. "If nothing else, it will be good practise." She placed the book onto the table and looked at him again. "I have to say it's strange to have... someone to care about your soul in such a way..."  
"Strange?" He took a step forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Strange that I should care for your soul?"

She blinked again as she looked into his eyes, his silver eyes, that were, for now, so full of concern and so full of...

"Imogen. Of course I do care for your soul."  
And looking at him, Imogen had to smile. "Aye. And if that's not love, I don't bloody know what is."  
He returned her smile and leaned forward. "Precisely", he whispered before he closed his arms around her and kissed her.

Yet when he leaned back, Imogen could do nothing else than bury her face into his shoulder and stand there, his arms around her, remembering her thoughts about the ultimate promise of peace and safety in his arms being around her.

It was not just a promise. It was the truth.


	29. Chapter 27

**Chapter 2****7**

It was rather strange, Imogen thought as she left the governor's residence quite late in the evening that day, how many times during the last weeks, or few months, she had been confronted with the experience of a feeling she couldn't name.

Like now. Walking down the main street from the upper part of the city, the bible he had insisted on giving her tucked under her arm, she felt strangely touched by his concern about her soul... and something else, something she couldn't name. Something she had no words for. But something that she had felt before, a faint tang of it. Ages ago, it seemed. When she had tried to flee from herself and ended up in the abbey where Jack had picked her up again.

She slowed her steps and turned around with a very thoughtful frown, looking at the church she had just passed. Light was still spilling out of the windows, light that cast strange and unfamiliar pictures through the coloured glass, and the figures seemed animated by the flickering candles inside.

With very slow and hesitating steps, Imogen held towards the entrance and carefully opened the heavy wooden door. A faint smell of incense greeted her, as well as a strange warmth even though the church was heated by nothing more than the candles.

A figure was kneeling in front of the altar at the end of the aisle, head bent down in prayer, and Imogen walked as silently as she could, down the aisle, past the wooden benches and finally stopped, ten feet behind the figure whom she now recognised to be the priest.

She cautiously cleared her throat, but in the nightly silence in the empty church it still almost sounded like a roar. The priest lifted his head and crossed himself, then slowly got up and turned around. "What can I do for you, my son?"

His voice was firm, yet gentle, but Imogen nonetheless felt suddenly out of place. She had no idea what she was doing here and if she would be able to convey anything she had in her confused and upset mind to the priest in her less than perfect Dutch. Starting with the obvious seemed a good idea. "Daughter", she gave back and the priest first knitted his forehead in confusion, yet then his face lightened up as he walked towards her.

"Ah, so you must be the captain half the city is talking about?"  
Imogen blinked. "Half the city?"  
"Or the whole of it, more likely." He smiled . "The woman who singlehandedly captured Nassau."  
"Single...? Father, I had forty-five men at my disposal."  
"Against a fully armed fort with three hundred men."  
"Thirty."  
The priest smiled again. "At least you seem to possess the virtue of modesty."  
Imogen shrugged. "I do not quite know what to say, Father..."  
"You could start with what I can do for you."  
"I did not..."  
"No one comes into the house of god in the middle of the night if they are not in search of help."  
"If you put it like this..." Imogen looked down at the bible in her hands. "I do not quite know, really, what I want here. I know I want something, but what it is exactly..."

"Something heavy weighs on your mind, my child", the priest said, looking at her earnestly. "If you would like to ease your mind, I can receive you in the confessional to hear of your troubles under the seal of god."  
Imogen felt a confused look creep over her face.  
"Have you never been to confession before?"  
She shook her head mutely.  
"Would you like to begin now, perhaps? Better late than never."

And without quite knowing what was happening and why, Imogen followed the priest, who ordered the stole around his neck before settling down, in the confessional. And kneeling down on the bench in the other compartment, Imogen just simply emptied out her soul again, yet this time more consciously, slowly, carefully but thoroughly, and without holding anything back.

It took her the better part of an hour.

Quite a while after she had ended, the priest cleared his throat. "You have led a rather eventful life for someone as young in years as you, child."  
"Quite so." She didn't know what else to say.  
"I am glad for you to finally come and seek solace in god. What made you come here and now?"  
"It is true I never cared, nor really knew. But I... I love a man, Father. And he was worried about my soul. The first time in my life ever that someone was worried about my soul. It made me... thoughtful."  
"What did it make you think of?"  
"I never cared for my soul. But now that there is someone who does, I do, as well. Because... I don't know. He cares about me, and suddenly, I find myself caring about me."  
"There was always someone who cared for your soul. Yet you could not hear or feel Him, for your soul was locked. Now that you have opened it, will you accept His love as well as the love of a mortal man to guide you through your life?"  
"And what would I have to do?" She felt herself begin to shiver. "Father, I know nothing."  
"You will have to learn, then. I am sure the man you love and who cares for you can help you."  
"He could. Yet he cannot be seen with me in public."  
"And why is that?"  
"He outranks me, Father. He is just too high above me in station. It cannot be... no matter what we might wish for."  
"Love will find a way, child. God does nothing without a reason."

A long silence followed these last words.

"Do you regret your deeds?"  
"I do."  
"Do you repent the devil?"  
"I do."  
"Will you strife for the right path from now on?"  
"I will do my best."  
"In nomini patri, et filii, et spiritus sancti", the priest said softly. "Te absolvo."  
"Thank you."  
"Do not thank me, child, thank Him."

Imogen left the confessional again, feeling strangely alert. Her senses overly sharpened by her tiredness, every candle had a bright halo, the shadows, in turn, seemed utterly dark and the smell of incense was a tang on her tongue as well as in her nose.

"My child", the priest said behind her. "Did this make you feel better?"  
She slowly turned around. "I think it did. I know it may sound strange but..." She shrugged. "I think I have not been baptized."  
"So will you accept the grace of the church now and embrace His holy vows?"  
"Just like that?"  
"How else? Let them all come to me, He said." The priest slowly indicated towards a side vestibule where the font was. "His arms are always open."

Imogen slowly looked up and gave the priest a long, thoughtful stare.

x x x x x x x x

Sunrise found Imogen crouching on deck, at the helm, to be precise, her back leaning against the wheel, her eyes resting on the horizon beyond the bay.

This was where Henningsen, too, found her as he emerged on deck, slightly bleary-eyed and yawning his head off. Yet as he spotted her, he walked over and, after looking down at her for no more than a few seconds, lowered himself down beside her. "Ye're up early, Capt'n."  
"I wasn't in bed, Niels."  
He didn't reply and contemplated the dirt under his fingernails instead.  
"Niels."  
"Aye?"  
"Have ye ever wondered why?"  
"Why what, Capt'n?"  
"Anything."  
He shot her a queer glance before scratching his beard. "Aye. Right now I do wonder why I drank zat zird bottle last night."  
Imogen had to grin, if faintly.  
He shot her another glance from the corner of his eye. "Razer heavy zoughts for such an early morning, Capt'n."  
She shrugged.  
"Somezing wrong?"  
"What if ye had been striving all your life to try and make sense out of everything and then, suddenly, you discover something and, suddenly, it all does make sense... or would make sense if you'd only dare to take it?"

He turned his head and gave her a long, questioning stare. "I don't know. But I do know I wouldn't want to be in yer skin, Capt'n."  
"Niels, I don't want to be in my skin, and here I don't have any choice about it."  
"Zen ye'll just have to make ze best of it, is all I can say", he muttered and got up again, holding out a hand to her.  
Imogen took the offered hand and let him help her up."Thanks for listening to my ramblings, Niels.""Anytime, Capt'n."

Henningsen watched her leave the ship with a weird feeling, not quite knowing what to make of her strange mood. He remembered when she had first come aboard and had done away with old Captain Asbert, or Ashbeard as the crew had secretly called him. A lass with a fiery spirit and a bright laugh. Hardly more than a child, though. And then this nasty episode had happened that had turned her into something that had come from a nightmare. Her own nightmare, to be precise. It had been a gradual slip, yet it had been unignorable after a while. And insufferable. And whatever exactly had happened then, as she had born the child, something had changed again. And the girl had been replaced by a woman with a core of forged steel. A strong woman. A good captain. But a lonely soul.

Then, in Tortuga, he had come back out of a sense of duty. He had stayed, however... out of duty, and out of something else.

A good captain, but a lonely soul. But luckily there was him, good old Niels Peer Henningsen, and he grinned to himself as he scratched his beard again. And he decided, as he watched her disappear between two warehouses, that she needed a friend.

x x x x x x x x

When Imogen came back later that morning, Henningsen told her that she had been summoned to the governor's residence again and with a sigh, she got on her way again although she would really rather have gone to bed to catch up on a few hours sleep.

Which was probably the reason she almost fell asleep on the chair she sat on as she was waiting outside the governor's office to be summoned and the servant's words that the governor would see her now almost made her jump. She got up with a sigh and entered.

"Good Morning, Captain..." He broke off and narrowed his eyes. "God, Imogen, you look dreadful."  
"I'm a tad bit tired", she admitted as she flopped down in the chair. "I didn't sleep last night."  
The governor gave her a worried look which she didn't notice as she was staring into the empty air before her. "Captain." His voice held deep concern and she slowly looked up again. "Is there something I can do for you?"  
Imogen shook her head, then shrugged and got up. Walking over to the window, she slung her arms around herself and silently stared out.The governor got up himself and walked up to her. "Imogen", he said gently.

She stared up at him, and the way she did this made him take a deep breath. She looked as if she hadn't slept for at least a week. And had had all reason to. Then she wiped her eyes and took another step forward, letting her head fall against his shoulder. With a sigh, he closed his arms around her for a moment, but then gently pushed her back. "Not here", he said. "Come with me."

Silently she followed him to his study again where he, first thing, fortified her with a measure of brandy. This time, however, she didn't gulp it, and for some reason, this made him worry even more. "Imogen, what is the matter?"  
She took a sip of her brandy and put the glass down onto the table. "I didn't sleep last night", she said again.  
"And why was that?", he asked, indicating towards the divan for her to sit down, yet she shook her head.  
"If I sit down now, I'll fall asleep."  
Lucas placed a hand on her shoulder. "Can you not tell me..."  
"I can." She looked up at him. "I passed the church last night as I had left here."  
He blinked. "So?"  
"I went inside."

Giving her a questioning look, he moved his hand from her shoulder up to her cheek.  
"I spoke to the priest", she said. "I confessed."  
Lucas swallowed and took a deep breath. "And?"  
Imogen gave him a faint smile. "I feel a lot better for it."  
"That gladdens my heart, Imogen." He smiled back at her, caressing her cheek with his thumb.  
"And then..." She broke off, seemingly embarrassed.  
"And then?", he asked gently.

She looked down again, hunching her shoulders. "It feels strange, trying to talk about it. It felt... rather private."  
"By all means, you do not have to tell me." He pulled her towards him and closed his arms around her. "I do not have to know every secret of your soul, Imogen."  
"And if I want you to?", she murmured into his shoulder.  
He buried one hand in her hair. "Then I will gladly listen."  
She took a deep breath, her face still pressed against his chest. "I got baptized."  
He didn't reply but held her closer instead, lowering his head so his cheek rested in her curls.

"I spoke to the priest for a rather long time", she went on, her voice slightly muffled by his arms around her. "And you will possibly laugh at me now, it sounds so silly but..." She took a deep breath. "He told me to pray five rosaries and I don't have a rosary and I tried to buy one and couldn't find one and was too embarrassed to ask where you can."

He could feel her stiffen as if she truly expected him to ridicule her. With a slow and decisive movement, he gently pushed her back and looked down at her. She had to force herself to look up.

"Do you hear me laugh?"  
She shook her head."  
Do you see me grin?"  
Imogen shook her head again."  
And why did you think I would?"  
"I don't know. I just felt..."He placed a finger across her lips and smiled. "You are being very harsh with yourself yet again, Captain."

And with these words he left her, yet only to walk into his bedroom from where he emerged again moments later, his hand closed around something. He pressed it into her hand then and, at the same time, went down onto his knees, pulling her down with him. Imogen looked down at the rosary he had given her and slowly back at his face again. "I..."  
"I do not have a second one, so I cannot give this one to you. But for now, you can have it."  
She bit her lower lip and swallowed. "I..." Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. "I love you, Lucas."  
He smiled gently down at her. "And I love you. Would you like me to pray with you?"  
Feeling suddenly shy, she only nodded and he closed his fingers around hers, then lowered his head until their foreheads touched, bowed over the rosary in their hands.


	30. Chapter 28

**Chapter ****28**

Imogen had to fight the constant urge to touch him as she followed the governor back down into his office. And she also had to smile at herself and that notion. The last two days, or more precisely, what had happened, had created a strange, yet comforting intimacy between them.

"After you." He opened the door for her and gestured at her to go through and followed her, closing the door silently behind him.  
"A rather handy thing that you have a backdoor to your office, Governor", she said.  
"There will come the day when one of my servants has something urgent for me and will find me gone from here, and you with me", he gave back as he sat down, looking at her earnestly.  
"And then?"  
"Then?" He smiled faintly. "Then we will be subject to some gossip, at least. Take a seat."

Imogen sat down, feeling slightly uncomfortable now.

"However, may this day be far into the future", the governor went on as he picked up a piece of paper, not looking at her again. "I can do without the gossip, but I have to admit, the more I think about it, the more I find I that I cannot do without you."  
"Gov...?" Imogen almost croaked and he looked up, slightly amused.  
"Captain, you have proven to be not only necessary but quite important. And the reason why I had you summoned here today was quite simple: The Dutch West India Trading Company sends their regards." He smiled. "And their reward for you."

Imogen took a deep breath and leaned back, trying to figure out if he had said what she thought he had said or if she had imagined it or just plain understood it wrongly.

The governor opened a drawer of his desk, not looking at her, and Imogen found herself looking at him. Would she ever be able to read that man? He had the uncanning ability to completely hide his feelings and motifs, something she wasn't very good at.

"Captain", he said and produced a large bag that seemed to be rather heavy. "Your reward."  
The bag, as he put it down, made the heavy clinking sound of coins, and Imogen cautiously opened it and took one out. A rather large, golden coin.  
"Three hundred and fifty Dutch Gulden", the governor said slowly. "Gold coins minted in Amsterdam. You will find them having more value than most coins, especially in Curacao, Captain."

Imogen looked at the coins again, narrowed her eyes, and cautiously closed her teeth around it. It was gold. Pure gold. She raised her eyebrows as she looked at the governor again.

"And just in case you ask me if that is all...", he began and Imogen leaned forward and crossed her arms.  
"All? Governor, do you think me so vain as to demand more than this... fortune... I got for my deeds?"  
"Does that satisfy you, Captain?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly.  
"It would." She tilted her head, struck by a sudden thought. With a narrow smile, she leaned back a little. "It does. Almost."  
"Almost?"  
"I find myself lacking the tiniest minor detail", she replied and at that, the governor leaned forward himself, folding his arms on the table.  
"And what would that be?"  
Imogen looked straight into his eyes. "A word of thanks."

He blinked, then took a deep breath, his eyes slowly widening while his forehead wrinkled. "Captain", he said rather slowly. "I beg your forgiveness for me being so thoughtless." He cleared his throat and summoned his face into obedience again, that is, put on the usual mask that hid all feelings. "You did the Dutch Empire a great service that day. Thank you."  
Imogen smiled and pursed her lips. "And what was that when you began and if I would ask myself..."  
"That, Captain, was just to indicate that I do not have, as of yet, any news from Amsterdam and the homeland. It might be that you will receive yet another reward."  
"I see."  
"And now I do not wish to keep you any longer, as you doubtlessly want to rest yourself a bit. You look as if you could use it."

His second sentence had been said in a much more gentle voice than he had employed so far in the conversation and Imogen found him smile at her when she looked up after gathering up the heavy bag. She rose with a smile, as well. "Thank you, Governor.  
"I will see you in a month's time, Captain Sparrow. "  
"Governor", Imogen said with a bow and turned to leave.  
"Oh, and Captain", the governor said as she was about to open the door. She turned around again and saw he was still smiling. "Just in case you do fancy a walk through Wilhelmstad even though you are doubtlessly quite tired, then at the main marketplace, opposite of the church, is a jeweller's shop. Left of that is another shop that, I guess, you might find interesting. I bid you a good day."  
"I could kiss you for that", Imogen whispered before she opened the door. She left with a smile, having seen his answer in his eyes.  
_Next time._

x x x x x x x x

When Imogen reached her ship again later that day, she found her crew complete and gathered on deck. And almost sober, as well. Yet something seemed amiss, and when she walked up the plank, she saw that some had a black eye, some had bruises, and one of them had a split lip.

"All right. Out with it."

They shuffled a bit and exchanged glances with each other, until Henningsen stepped forth with a sigh.

"They've been in a brawl, Capt'n."  
"I see that", Imogen said. "The whole lot of you?"

Some of the men nodded.

"And why? If I may be so bold to ask."

One of them, and Englishman named Doyle, scratched his chin and coughed cautiously. "Well, Captain, it was, like, we were there in that place havin' a drink an' all, and havin' a few on yer person, as well, when there was this bunch of bastards what started makin' jokes about us for..." he broke off and looked around, looking for help amongst his comrades who looked everywhere else but at him.  
"For taking orders from a woman", Imogen finished for him, shaking her head with a faint smile. "Who won?"  
Doyle straightened up. "We. Eight to one."  
Imogen felt her eyebrows rise on their own accord. "Eight to one?"  
"Teeth."  
"I see." She shook her head, but couldn't hide her grin, then chuckled. Seemingly relieved, the men cautiously started to smile or grin, as well.

"Right, ye bastards. Today's the day ye'll finally know why ye did all this. We gave them Nassau. And they gave us that." With this word, she flipped one of the coins. Forty-three pairs of eyes, for not even Henningsen could stop himself, followed the coin into the air and down on deck where it landed with a satisfying clunk, without spinning or rolling away.  
"Dutch Gulden. Gold coins, minted in Amsterdam." With a heavy thud, the bag landed next to the coin. "There's five for each of ye." She folded her arms and grinned. "Enjoy."

The men slowly started to tighten the circle around the bag, like a pack of wolves around the dying prey, determined yet cautious as if some kind of last resistance was not fully out of question.  
"Oh and..." Imogen began and looked into forty-three expectant faces. "They thanked us."

Still grinning, listening to the happily swearing men, Imogen walked below deck. This time, for the first time ever, she had taken more than her men, had not shared equally with them. But for some reason she felt that not only was it hers to take, but also that they wouldn't have minded a bit. Probably agreed that it was hers to take. She was the Captain, after all.

She didn't even know what she would use the money for, but she knew that the little bit she had spent today was well spent, indeed.

x x x x x x x x

That night, she actually went out with her men for a drink or two. They settled down in the same place her men had had the row the night before in the founded hopes that the bunch of bastards would be elsewhere tonight after their shameful defeat.  
As she looked around for a table, she realised that Captain van Rijmenant was there as well, sitting at a table in the corner. To her surprise, he waved at her when she entered after her men and she slowly walked over to him.

"Captain van Rijmenant", she said.  
"Captain Sparrow", he gave back and indicated towards the seat beside him. Imogen sat down with a nod as her men dispersed throughout the taproom. "I see you have quite recovered from your injury."  
"It took me a while, but yes."  
Van Rijmenant waved a serving maid over to his table. "I must say, the way you looked, I did worry you never would."  
Imogen raised her brows. "Worried about the likes of me?"  
"The likes of you?" He turned to the maid. "Bring another cup."  
"Captain?"  
He smiled at her with a strange quirk of his eyebrows. "Captain Sparrow, just in case you wonder..." He crossed his legs. "I am not a military officer."  
"So?"  
"The governor has not only one privateer employed, you know."

Imogen slowly leaned back and crossed her arms. Yet before she could say anything the maid came back and brought another pewter cup that she placed on the table. With a lopsided grin, van Rijmenant filled the cup from the bottle standing next to his and offered it to her.

"Thank you. Although I must say I feel rather foolish right now."  
"No need to", he gave back and lifted his cup. Imogen followed his lead.  
"And besides...", van Rijmenant added after drinking, "...you had no way of knowing."  
"Not really, no. But it never crossed my mind that there would be more of... the likes of me."  
She flashed him a grin and van Rijmenant laughed. "Captain Sparrow, there's more of the likes of you and me around in Curacao than you might think", he said with a chuckle.  
Imogen took a sip of her drink again. "Would you know?"  
Captain van Rijmenant shook his head. "I know one. And I know of at least two more."  
"Me being the one you know?"  
"Exactly." He grinned again and Imogen found she actually liked him, now that he had shed that formal attitude that had accompanied him when they had been on that mission.

He lifted his cup to drink, yet stopped before it had reached his lips and Imogen slowly followed his gaze. A group of men had just entered, seamen, and some of them... bore bruises, or a black eye, or a split lip.

"Ah, there's my crew now."  
"Your crew?"  
The two captains exchanged a long glance.

"Now if those aren't the puppy pirates of last night", one of the newcomers said. "We told ye to look elsewhere for drinks."  
Doyle grinned an evil little grin. "I thought we had showed ye last night where ye can put yerselves."

"We tend to go here quite regularly", van Rijmenant said very slowly. It was almost a drawl. His expression was almost a savoury grin. "Last night, however, they had that row with another crew..."  
"What a coincidence. So had mine."  
They exchanged another glance.

In an uneasy kind of truce, the two crews slowly settled down again.

"See, what I wanted to say was..." van Rijmenant began, but was brought up short when one of his men scoffed in his drink and muttered very audibly: "Only tits we ever see when we're at sea are those of our figurehead."

"I feel I have to apologize, Captain."  
"No need to, Captain."  
They exchanged a grin, this time.

Doyle slowly got up, looked at the bottle in his hand and narrowed his eyes. Around him, several men stopped drinking and looked at the other crew across the room.  
The man from Rijmenant's crew glanced up at Doyle. "Is it true that ye can earn the goodwill of yer captain with yer cock?"  
Doyle smacked his bottle onto the edge of the table and lifted the broken bottleneck. "Say that again."

"I would have thought my men a little wiser than that", van Rijmenant began and filled up his and Imogen's cups again. "Being as they got the shit beaten out of them last night."  
Imogen shrugged. "Hurt pride is a bad advisor."  
"Indeed. Think they'll win tonight, being thus sufficiently enraged?"  
"The question is, who is more enraged at the time?"

Imogen watched Doyle strangle his opponent, the bottle having been knocked out of his hands as he had attempted to carve up the other man's face with it, and behind him, the row broke out in earnest as each man looked for the nearest man of the other crew to hit or kick or elsewise maim in the most effective way. Broken bottlenecks seemed to be the favourite weapon of choice, although some other things like unbroken bottles gripped by the neck and other tavern furniture and equipment were also present and gladly used. A tankard flew and crashed against a wall. Someone picked up a chair.

"Puppies!"  
"Better a puppy than a toothless old crone!"

"Ooh... that had to hurt", van Rijmenant remarked with a grimace.  
"Looks like my boys win again. Won eight to one last night." She had to raise her voice to be heard.  
"Eight to one?"  
"Teeth."  
"Oh. Yes, that was certainly a good score in that department."  
"If you will excuse me, Captain van Rijmenant...", Imogen began and got up.

She slowly and deliberately walked right into the brawl and crossed her arms. It took a few minutes, but for some unsettling reason, no one hit her or threw something at her, not even accidentally. And even in their rage, the two groups of men sensed there was something wrong ad slowly, the fight calmed down around Imogen who still stood unmoving in the middle of the room, arms crossed.

"You", she said, after she had made sure she had the whole attention of both crews, addressing the man who had started the row with his muttering about tits. "Wanna see me tits, sweetheart? Just come over here."  
He did come, a feisty grin on his face.  
"Man, the way you look it doesn't surprise me you don't ever see any other tits than the one of yer figurehead. There's no whore as desperate as to put up with a mug like that, mate."  
He crossed his arms. "Don't ye think I wouldn't spank a lass, even if she calls herself a captain."  
Imogen smiled sweetly. "And here I thought we were getting so well along with each other", she purred, adjusting her posture very slightly, but very significantly. The man took a step forward and reached out to grab one of Imogen's breasts.

She gently caught his hand before he actually touched her and closed her fingers around it. "Look with yer eyes and not with yer paws, mate", she said sweetly and then, with a quick flick of her hand, twisted his wrist with a crunch that made him yelp, and before he could even move, planted her other fist right under his chin in a vicious left hook. He fell over like a dead tree.  
"Anyone else up for me tits, here?", Imogen asked amiably into the round of staring faces. "No? I suggest ye drop that topic, lads. Otherwise, I'll have to bring up the topic of kicking yer bollocks out of yer ears. Any other takers?" She spread out her arms, yet no one moved. "Right. Nice and peaceful. All I wanted is a drink. And a drink, peacefully and quietly, like, is what I'll get. Savvy?"

No one moved.

"Ye may nod", Imogen said and some heads jerked hastily. "See. No need to make such a fuss about it."

Then she walked back to van Rijmenant's table and sat down again. Around them, the men straightened shirts, smoothed back hair, picked up dropped mugs and slowly settled down, gingerly clutching noses or eyebrows.  
When the conversations picked up again, Captain van Rijmenant filled Imogen's cup again. "Serves'em right", he muttered. "Gezondheit, Captain Sparrow."  
"Imogen", Imogen said, feeling charitable.  
Van Rijmenant grinned. "Paul", he said and they clinked their cups together.

x x x x x x x x

When the Albatross left Curacao the next morning, with a slightly bleary-eyed and hung-over crew, Imogen stood at the wheel and smiled to herself. Fiercely proud was she of her lads, and they, obviously, of her. As Henningsen watched her, he couldn't help but grin as he remembered the way she had showed that piece of scum what she was worth.

Yet also, as he watched her, he realised that there was something out of place, or maybe just not as it usually was. Slowly coiling up the rope, he watched her more closely until he realised that it was her necklace. A necklace she hadn't had before yesterday.

A golden necklace, with a golden cross resting on top of her clothing.


	31. Chapter 29

**Chapter ****29**

Heading back south with her hull full of tobacco and bars of silver, provided by a Spanish merchantman who had been unlucky enough to cross their path, the Albatross was lying deep in the water due to her heavy load. They were nearing Curacao, but slowly.

Imogen calculated that at their present speed, it would take them almost another week to get back again, fighting ill winds and now with the heavy load had prolonged their journey more than planned for. She would be a week or so too late, yet she was sure that with the load she brought, silver bars with a value that would probably buy a small city, and some tobacco as well, the governor would not mind her delay.

Things were running smoothly, she thought. A fine catch she had made, and for this and for other reasons she was looking forward to hit Wilhelmstad again. Maybe a week or two of shore leave for her men would be appropriate. And for herself, of course. A few days in a nice inn, having a bath and sleeping in a nice, wide, comfortable bed would be a welcome break. Not to speak of the slim possibility of catching up with a certain someone. She smiled to herself.

A knock on her door broke her train of thoughts but not her smile. She slowly turned around. "Yes?"  
"Capt'n." Henningsen opened the door. "We're being followed."  
"By?"  
"English brigantine. Looks like a warship, too. Zey're gaining on us."

This made her stop smiling as she hastily got up and followed Henningsen on deck. Making use of her spying glass, she could see that, indeed, they were being followed by an English warship. Maybe a pirate hunter, maybe a ship of war on a mission. But she knew that no matter what flag she flew now, she was in for a fight. And since the Dutch flag was already on the topmast, she saw no reason to change it.

And an ugly fight it would be, at that. Loaded to the brim, the Albatross had no chance of escaping the brigantine under full sail, and with her six cannons on each side their chances of surviving a direct stand-off were feeble. Contemplating the possible courses of action, Imogen let the glass sink and narrowed her eyes.

"Flee?"  
She turned around and looked at her first mate. "We're too slow, with that load. I feel a little reluctant to part from it, as it wasn't easy to come by, precisely."  
Henningsen shrugged. "Feel more reluctant to part wiz me life, Capt'n."  
"So's me, Niels. Maybe we can trick them."  
"As in?"  
Imogen narrowed her eyes in thought. "There's a few reefs not far off from here. Maybe we're just about fast enough to lure them there. Even with our load, they're lying deeper in the water. We just might make it. And if we don't, we'll just have to stand and fight."  
Henningsen made a very unhappy face but could add nothing to that. "Guess zat's ze best bet", he muttered and Imogen shrugged. "Sorry Niels. Can't think of anything else."  
"Neizer do I."

Yet Imogen realised as they set off that the Albatross was too sluggish under her. She had misjudged the load and cursed in a way that made a few of the sailors that were within hearing range turn their heads and stare. The brigantine gained on them far more swiftly than Imogen had thought and even with full canvas, it wasn't clear if they would make the few miles they needed to reach the reefs.

"Capt'n!"

Imogen spun around to follow Niels' pointing finger. His voice had held a trace of horrified astonishment and right, there behind the English brigantine, another sail showed up, crossing diagonally behind her as if trying to catch up with the Albatross as well. She had sailed behind the brigantine so they hadn't seen her at first. "Reinforcements, Capt'n..."  
"Damn", Imogen said softly. They were doomed.

"Captain?" One of her men called at her from across the deck and Imogen slowly unsheathed her sabre.  
"Men!", she called out. "We're doomed! There's two of them, and even if we throw everything but ourselves overboard, we're not going to escape them anymore! The only thing left to us now is to sell our sorry hides as dearly as possible!"  
She told Henningsen to man the wheel and jumped the stairs down from the helm on deck. "Ready to scrap, lads! All hands on battle stations!"  
A part of the men disappeared below to man the cannons and the rest readied their weapons, loaded pistols, and prepared for their last stand. "Fly on, Albatross!", someone called.  
"Not going to fly much further", a man beside Imogen muttered as he tightened his grip on his sabre.  
Imogen turned her head to face him. "Mick, that's maybe even true. But we'll fly, not crawl. Understood?"  
He slowly grinned at her. "Aye, Captain. Fly it is."

"Captain!" Imogen spun around again to look at Henningsen. "Zat's not reinforcements!"

Turning around very slowly again, she saw that the other ship, a barque like the Albatross, was now cruising in directly towards the brigantine and firing a full broadside at the English vessel. And a Dutch flag slowly crept up the mast.

"Get them!" Imogen screamed and hastened up the stairs to the helm again. "Get them!!"

Below, the sailors sprang into action and Imogen took the wheel of Henningsen who, in turn, jumped down and equipped himself with weapons and powder. The Albatross turned and held for the English ship again who had started to exchange salvos with the Dutch vessel.

Howls of triumph rang out across the deck of the Albatross as a salvo from the Dutch barque hit the brigantine in full and her main mast fell over. It was that precise moment that the Albatross got within reach of their hooks and Imogen screamed at her men to board the ship. As soon as the hooks flew, the other Dutch vessel joined their efforts and both crews boarded the English brigantine with brandished weapons.

As soon as the ships were secured to the railing of the brigantine, Imogen let go of the wheel and joined the fighting. Yet with the combined efforts of both crews, it took them little time to overcome the English crew and overtake the ship after throwing what was left of the English crew into the brigg.  
Only then, as she stood panting on deck of the English vessel, looking around her, did it occur to Imogen to seek out the other Dutch captain. Walking slowly, and with a slight limp, for she had twisted an ankle as she had slipped in a puddle of blood, she had a look across the deck and finally spotted the Dutch captain, at the wheel of his ship.

A man with a slight paunch, a dark blue coat and hat. And a salt-and-pepper coloured beard that covered his chin but left his upper lip bare. She couldn't believe her eyes.

"Captain Uettersen!" She called and jumped across the railing onto his ship, the Wilhelmina, as she had seen the last moment before they had boarded the English ship. "Permission to come aboard?"  
Uettersen spun around and his eyes widened, then his grin followed. "Granted!" He hollered across the deck and let go of the wheel to meet her halfway.  
"Captain Uettersen", Imogen said, still a bit out of breath. "It gladdens my heart beyond words to express it to see you so conveniently show up at this time and in this place." What a good thing she finally spoke Dutch, she thought, but then remembering Uettersen's personal traits, she amended that thought. With good reason...

Uettersen grinned. "You can say that twice and be only half true, Captain Sparrow. I can only return that I, too, am glad to have you found just in time, even if I didn't know at that time it was you. As I know now, I can hardly express my feeling of gratitude towards fate, as it is, for now, finally, it has enabled me to repay the debt that I owed you!"  
Imogen narrowed her eyes and slowly sheathed her sabre. "Debt?"  
Uettersen winked at her and opened his arms. "You saved my ship and crew once, Captain Sparrow, and I, Jan-Peter Uettersen, never forget a deed such as that. For true, I prayed that moment that god might send me a helping angel to get us out of that mess, and Io and behold! A ship showed up at the horizon, flying the Dutch flag like a banner of honour and saved me and my ship and my wares, and let me add, it would have been a great, painful loss if I had lost that load, but to be honest, it would probably have hurt more to have lost my ship and crew... or my life for that matter, and I..."  
"Captain Uettersen", Imogen finally managed to interject. "I am glad to have helped tha..."  
Uettersen grinned even more broadly and Imogen worried that his head might fall off. "Oh, Captain, not as glad as I was today, believe me, for I thought surely, there was a good deed in store for me, and with that, together, to pay back a debt was more than I ever could hope for! You see..."  
"Captain Uettersen", Imogen said and took a step forward, aiming to stop the man in some way that would not offend him but make him stop talking. She held out her hand to him and he took it with a grin. "Thank you", she said firmly and shook his hand before he could say anything. Then, with a fine smile, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you. I am forever in your debt, Captain."

With that, she managed to escape, for he stood there as if hit by a stroke, staring at her with a slightly strained grin on his face and cautiously touching his cheek. Imogen shook her head with a grin as she crossed the deck of the English vessel to head back for the Albatross again.

Yet even as she was about to give orders to sink the brigantine, she remembered what had happened on the way to Nassau. About the pirate who had fled because of them being a convoy. And as she slowly narrowed her eyes, she thought that maybe this was the best purpose ever to spend her newly acquired fortune on.

x x x x x x x x

It took them another week longer with the damaged brigantine in tow to reach Wilhelmstad, but Imogen was very set about keeping the ship and as soon as they had dropped her off in the docks, they made way for the harbour and docked there. About to disembark, the men were hesitating, however, and as Imogen emerged on deck, she noticed the strange, uneasy mood. With raised eyebrows, Imogen walked on deck and followed the stares or her men down towards the pier.

Where Captain Uettersen stood, looking expectantly up at the gangplank, in his hand a bunch of flowers. By now a regular guest in the Dutch colony, she recognised them as tulips, and she also knew that they were worth a fortune. The bulbs of these flowers were worth almost their own weight in gold, and only very few managed to grow in the tropical climate of Curacao. She slowly walked down the plank, expecting the worst.

"Captain Sparrow!" Uettersen walked up to her and removed his hat. "Let me tell you again how grateful and glad I am to have finally been enabled to repay my debt towards you that was weighing so heavily upon me and how I prayed to god, at first to make this happen and then to bring you safely back ashore for truly..."  
"Captain..."  
"... I could not have lived with such a debt unpaid, and by now, I must say that not only have you rescued me and my life and my crew and my ship but also taken possession of my soul and I must confess that you are the most beautiful and lovely..."  
"Cap..."  
"... and at the same time brave and noble, as fierce and protective a spirit that a sailor's eye could ever behold, and if I had a thousand tongues I could not express my feelings of gratitude and of pride of having been allowed to meet a soul such as you and I must say...  
"Captain Uett...  
"... that by now, you have captured my heart and I cannot help it, I must say it now or surely perish..."  
"Captain..."  
"Imogen!" He fell down on one knee, thrusting the bunch of flowers out to her. A single petal fell softly to the ground. "Imogen, will you marry me?"

Overcome by a feeling of slight horror and deep confusion, Imogen forced her mouth to shut again and slowly, lifted her hands as if Uettersen wasn't extending flowers but pointing a pistol at her. She took a deep breath. "Captain Uettersen", she said with a strained, forced grin, nervously waggling her fingers, and realised at the same moment how dreadfully alike to her father she had to look now. "Can we discuss this... over a drink?"  
He looked up at her, his face slowly deflating into a collection of mournful wrinkles. "Does that mean... no?"  
Imogen swallowed and tried to smile. "...yes."

He slowly got up again. "Well at least you are honest with me, and I must say, I cannot ask for more than that. But rest assured, it will not tarnish my disposition towards you, my most lovely and fierce woman." He held the flowers out to her. "I still want you to have these, please, and if only to comfort the hurting heart of an old and weathered seaman." He looked at her with beseeching eyes and, with a heavy sigh, Imogen took the bunch of tulips. Another petal fell to the ground, joined by a third one.

Wordlessly, Uettersen swept his hat at her and bowed deeply, then wordlessly as well, he left her standing there, staring at his back. With another deep breath, she slowly turned around and walked onto the Albatross again, staring at her crew under narrowed eyebrows. They were looking anywhere but at her, biting lips, scratching chins or coughing cautiously and when she slowly glared at Henningsen, he stroked a hand down his mouth and chin and avoided her eyes, as well.

"The first one to laugh I'll beat with his own legs", Imogen snarled and stomped across the deck to head below, leaving a trail of red and pink tulip petals behind.

Yet she did not find it in her heart to throw the flowers away and with an exasperated shake of her head, she picked up a crock sitting on her desk in the corner and put it on the table, placing the flowers within.

When she emerged on deck again no one had moved, and all of the men still stared anywhere but at her, treading from one foot to the other or scratching beards or whatnot.  
"Right." Imogen sighed. "Right, ye bastards." She dragged a hand down her face. "Ye may laugh. I guess it's asked a bit much not to." And with these words she left the ship, but strangely enough, with being allowed to laugh, they didn't feel like it any more. Or maybe they would just wait until she was out of earshot.

Still shaking her head, she made her way to the governor's residence.

x x x x x x x x

The governor cautiously cleared his throat as he poured two drinks. "It seems as if you have developed a very captivating side to your personality, Captain", he said very slowly as he turned around to offer her one of the glasses. Imogen watched him with narrowed eyes as he sat down beside her on the divan. The corners of his mouth were twitching.

"You are allowed to laugh", she finally said with a wry grin. "I just felt a bit too flabbergasted, and still do, to actually laugh."  
"Laugh?" He lifted his glass. "Far be it from me to ridicule another man's feelings towards you. Me, of all men."

Imogen looked at his face again, and truly, the slight smirk was gone again and replaced by something more tender. With a smile, Imogen lifted her glass and had a sip of her drink, the placed the glass onto the small table before her. He put his beside hers and leaned forward a bit without looking at her.

"Governor?"  
"Imogen, I must say I do envy the good Captain, and then again, I certainly don't."  
"You've lost me there."  
He looked up at her again with a strange, almost sad smile. "It may sound ridiculous to your ears as well, but here I do not have really any choice about my feelings."  
"Gov..."  
He raised his eyebrows.  
"Lucas", she said with a slightly apologetic smile. "I still have no bloody clue what you're talking about.  
With a heavy sigh, he straightened up again and took one of her hands in his. "Imogen, I wish I could make the same offer to you as the good captain did. But here I am in no position to ask such a thing or offer it to you."

Imogen blinked a few times and stared at him, until it trickled down into her stupefied brain that he really had said these words.

"You...?"  
"Yes?"  
"But..."  
"Imogen." He leaned towards her, a soft sheen in his silver eyes. "Yes, I would very much like to make you an honourable woman, and no, I do not mean to imply that you have no honour right now but was just using a phrase that means make you my wife."  
Imogen blinked again.  
"I would love to, Imogen. To make you mine and keep you forever. But I cannot."  
Still speechless, she kept staring at him until finally, she found her tongue back. "You... you would?", she almost croaked.  
He leaned forward a little more. "Yes."  
"But..."  
"But? You do mean to imply I should not say such a thing, or feel it?"  
Imogen swallowed. "I didn't say that. I just thought... me not really worth it. I mean..." She broke off as she saw his eyes slowly close into two narrow slits.  
"Imogen, I insist on you taking my feelings more serious. Otherwise I will..."

"Lucas", she said hastily, realising she had offended him with her last words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that at all. I was just... ever so surprised that you would... consider that."  
"Imogen..." He began, still a little upset. "I did..."  
"Lucas", she said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. "I didn't mean to upset or offend you. And I certainly didn't mean to imply that your feelings were not worth it. I truly didn't. I was just... completely taken off my feet."  
He took another deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. "Rightly so, I can assume. And I ask your forgiveness for taking your reaction with so little grace. I guess I am still a bit..."  
"Trying to keep up with the pace of events?", she asked with a tender smile and ran a hand through his hair. He smiled wryly and leaned forward even more. "You could say that, indeed", he whispered and kissed her. Imogen slung her arms around his neck and buried her fingers into his hair as his arms slowly closed around her to pull her closer to him.

He broke the kiss after a while and touched her forehead with his. "Imogen", he whispered. "I meant it. I wish I could make you mine."  
"I am yours already."  
"You know what I mean."  
"Yes", she said, caressing his cheeks with her fingertips. "You could ask me, still. And I could say yes."  
"And then?" He leaned back to give her a stern, if mildly confused, look.  
Imogen shrugged. "You can promise me to marry me. You would not have to say when."  
"I might as well not promise it at all. Such a promise is worthless."  
She leaned back again to look at him. "And if you promise me... if you promise me to marry me when the stars shine at noon?"  
He raised his eyebrows. "I fail to spot the difference."

She took a deep breath. "Is it not written that on the last of days, the sun will cover its face and sink below forever and darkness shall claim the lands?"  
"Are you referring to judgment day? The last of all days? What good is that to you or me? To us?"  
She smiled tenderly and leaned forward so their foreheads touched again. "But then we would be together. For eternity if not in this life. Isn't that so?"  
Lucas slowly closed his arms around her again and ran a hand through her hair. "If you put it like this, I cannot contradict you", he said in a heavy whisper and Imogen looked up again. He was smiling at her in a strange way, a little sad and yet somehow, very happy.

"Lucas", she whispered. "Will you marry me?"  
"Imogen, I will marry you when the stars shine at noon", he replied in a whisper, then leaned forward to kiss her again.


	32. Chapter 30

**Chapter ****30**

With the rain finally slackening after weeks, Jack and Elizabeth stood on the balcony and watched the sun rise, enjoying the crispness of the young morning and the face of the sun after two weeks of grey skies.

"There's a ship going out", Elizabeth remarked with a smile. "See? And she's rather fast. A mail runner?"  
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Maybe. She's not loaded whatsoever, as it seems."  
Elizabeth sighed. "Where might she be going?"  
"Trinidad."  
"Jack...?" She slowly turned her head to look at him with narrowing eyes.  
"Uhmm..." Jack shrugged and grinned. "That's most likely the ship of my friend Horace Greenwood, and he was meant for Trinidad, intending to leave this morning."  
"You recognise a ship at this distance?"  
Jack smirked. "Luv, if I hadn't mastered the skill of recognising ships at a distance, d'ye think I'd have grown that old in my business?"  
"Most likely not." Elizabeth looked ahead again and followed the ship with her eyes.

"Jack", she said after a while. "What have you gotten yourself into?"  
"What? What d'ye mean to..."  
"Jonathan Jacob McGuyre." She turned around to face him and crossed her arms.

Knowing that there was doom ahead if he was not careful, Jack forced himself to think quickly. She only used his full name when she was really upset or angry with him. She seemed to be both now.

"I can think of nothing that would make me deserve being looked at that way by you, my love, as I..."  
"Jack." She leaned forward. "I know that face, and I know that grin. And I bloody well know when you're trying to weasel your way out of something. Why do you lie to me?"

She seemed hurt, and, as Jack had to admit, with good reason. With a heavy sigh, Jack pursed his lips for a few seconds as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. But honestly, there's no reason to worry. It's a simple thing, really..."  
"And what is it?"  
"Oh, just a tad bit of smuggling, luv."  
"Smuggling."  
He grinned, albeit a little strained. "Nothing major. Just a little contraband."  
"What exactly?"  
"Lizzie..."  
"Jack. I want to know what you got yourself into."

With another sigh, Jack rolled his eyes and huffed. "Right. All right. We're going to smuggle weapons from Trinidad to Maracaibo."  
"Maracaibo?"  
"A small Spanish city south of Curacao."  
"You sell weapons to the Spaniards?"  
"Well, they will pay good money..."  
"Jack!" She took a step back and dropped her arms in exasperation. "That is high treason!"  
"No one will ever know", he pouted and crossed his arms.

"And what if?" Elizabeth took a step back. "I can't believe this. If you cannot live without the threat of death looming over you, why didn't you stay a bloody pirate?"  
"Lizzie..."  
"And right now, where I really have other things on my mind! God, Jack. Sometimes I really wish..."  
He gritted his teeth. "Wish what, luv? That ye've never met me?"  
Elizabeth swallowed, but thrust out her chin. "Yes. For I do not wish for not having married you."  
Jack dropped his arms and blinked. "No?"  
"No." She turned around and walked the two steps towards the banister and closed her hands around it. "No, I don't think I shouldn't have married you, because I love you, Jack. But you have your ways of driving the people around you mad with either exasperation or worry, as you just can't seem to..."  
"Elizabeth", he said slowly and stepped behind her. "Lizzie, luv, I'm sorry..."  
"Jack." With a heavy sigh, Elizabeth turned around again. "Don't you realise that I worry about you? I haven't been at peace from the day you came here, afraid you might be found out. And now you merrily plan high treason, and I am sick with fear. And all the while, we have the wedding coming up. Why now, Jack?"

Dismayed, Jack swallowed and lowered his eyes. "I..."  
Elizabeth shook her head with another sigh. "Jack, I really could do with a bit of boredom, every now and then, you know? "  
Jack looked up again and tried to smile encouragingly. "Lizzie, luv, we've employed all measures of safety. I just needed tom replenish my resources and..."  
"Resources?"  
"Lizzie, I am almost broke. And these thirty doubloons..."  
"Why didn't you..."  
"See the governor? Would you want any officials and authorities dwell into the topic of me having a possible past in piracy?"  
Elizabeth swallowed. "No, I guess not. You're right."  
"Lizzie. Everything's going to be all right. Promised."  
She looked up at him and placed a hand on his cheek. "You're driving me mad, Jack", she said gently.  
Jack grinned. "Sorry."  
"Promise me you won't get caught."  
"Savvy."

x x x x x x x x

Getting the weapons in Trinidad had proven to be no problem. With skilled negotiations and careful arrangements of contacts and businessmen, it had taken Captain Greenwood barely a few days to get his hands on several dozen rifles and pistols together with a few accompanying barrels of powder and some ingots of lead.  
But cannons, to his annoyance, were absent and so he had decided to try his luck in the proud city of Barbados.

The only foundry in Barbados, however, was official and was owned by the crown and Greenwood had to employ a lot of sure instinct in negotiating to be allowed to acquire a dozen cannons. He had spoken at first to the master founder and was from there directed to see the governor as he needed official documents to be allowed to procure armaments.  
The governor had, in turn, proven to be unhelpful at first, and Greenwood had been forced to speak to the harbourmaster, a grumpy, ill-tempered fellow who seemed to be suffering from severe heartburn as he was belching constantly.

"Jade Star? Never heard that name."  
"I ask you to look, Harbourmaster", Greenwood said patiently. "I know she is registered here."  
"If she is, then why isn't the captain living here?"  
"He recently moved to Port Royal, Harbourmaster."  
"So why don't you get your cannons in Port Royal?"  
"There is no foundry in Port Royal yet, Harbourmaster."  
"So why is he not coming himself?"

Although Captain Horace Greenwood was known to have the patience of an angel and stubbornness of a mule, he slowly was reaching the end of his tether.

"I told you that, Harbourmaster. His ship was badly damaged and robbed by pirates. He has no own armaments any more. So here I am, his friend and business partner, trying to help him out in re-equipping him with cannons so he can take up his business again."  
"So what do you need my logs and registers for, then?"  
Greenwood swallowed an angry sigh. "Because the governor requests proof of his existence, Harbourmaster, before I will be allowed to buy them."

A few gold coins magically appeared on the harbourmasters desk, out of nowhere. The mean old man narrowed his eyes and shot Greenwood a sour look, but with a surprising alacrity, he pocketed the coins and opened a large and dusty ledger.

Finding what he was looking for, he then took a piece of parchment and scribbled something on it, then handed the document to Greenwood. "There. Jade Star of Barbados. Captain Jonathan Jacob McGuyre. That enough?"  
Slowly folding the document, Greenwood glared at the Harbourmaster and narrowed his eyes. "I do sincerely hope so, Harbourmaster. Let us just hope I will not have to make that way again."  
"Good day", the harbourmaster scoffed.

Greenwood tipped the brim of his hat and left.

x x x x x x x x

"Ah, I see, and I have to apologize", the governor said. "But I hope I find you understanding as to why we have to be cautious. Smugglers are everywhere, Captain Greenwood. And we do not like taking the risk of selling English cannons to our enemies, now, do we?"  
"Of course not", Greenwood said._ I can't believe I said that with a straight face._

"So how many will you need?"  
"Two times six", he replied. "A dozen will do."  
"Right. I do hope your esteemed friend will be able to resume his business again once he has refitted his craft."  
"I do hope so. It was a hard blow, he almost lost everything."

The governor signed his document and sprinkled it with sand to make the ink dry faster. "These are hard times, Captain Greenwood. Smugglers and pirates wherever you look. I myself own a small business and try to build up a small fortune for the time when I retire, but twice already did I lose a ship to pirates. I do hope these cannons will see the end of at least one of these."  
"That remains to be seen", Greenwood said. "Don't we all hope simply never to run into pirates?"  
"Quite so, Captain Greenwood. Here is your permission. Twelve cannons."  
"I thank you kindly, governor." Greenwood rose to leave.

"Oh, Captain Greenwood", the governor said as he was about to open the door.  
"Governor?"  
"Your ship will be heavily loaded with a dozen cannons. Are you sure you will make the journey safely?"  
"I can only hope so", he gave back. "It's not as if I have much of a choice, now, have I? I can hardly do the journey a few times and only carry two cannons, each."  
"Of course not. I was thinking of something else."  
"Yes?"

The governor smiled. "I have a mail runner lying in the harbour, Captain. He is bound for Port Royal and meant to leave today, but I could give the order for him to wait another day until your ship is loaded. I'd dare say that a heavily armed sloop escorting your ship will help keeping pirates at bay."  
"Why governor, I thank you from the bottom of my heart."  
"No need to, my good Captain. Anything I can do to help fending off pirates or smugglers or similar brood is a good thing to be done."  
"And no doubt about it, governor", Greenwood replied and bowed deeply. "I will make sure my ship is loaded tonight so we can leave with the morning tide first thing tomorrow."  
"I will send a messenger to the mail runner, Captain."  
"I thank you, governor."

And as he left, Greenwood could hardly believe his luck. Not only was he allowed to buy the cannons, the governor was actually providing him with an escort to bring them safely to Port Royal.

_Poor bastard_, he thought. _I do sincerely hope you'll never learn what you actually did today._

And he chuckled all the way to his ship.

x x x x x x x x

"So tell us, friend Horace", Watkinson said after they had settled comfortably down, fortified with generous measures of brandy. "How did things go?"  
Greenwood stretched out his legs and chuckled. "You will probably not believe this, but not only was I successful in acquiring the armaments for my dear and unlucky friend McGuyre, the governor of Barbados was so nice as to provide me with an escort to get me safely home."  
"Barbados?" Jack wrinkled his forehead.  
"Aye. There's no foundry in Trinidad."  
"I see."

"And what was that about an escort?" Watkinson asked, leaning forward.  
Greenwood laughed. "You won't believe this", he said and then related to the other gentlemen how he had convinced the governor of Barbados to let him buy cannons and told them about his offer to have him sail in a convoy with the mail runner.  
"And the armaments now sit comfortably in my warehouse", he ended. "Waiting for my dear friend McGuyre to take them aboard. All nice and smoothly done."  
"Brilliant", Watkinson said. "Gentlemen, stage one of our plan did not only go tremendously well, it went even better than we had thought."

He refilled the glasses and lifted his."Gentlemen, to success."  
"To success", was the chorus that answered him, and the gentlemen downed their drinks to toast themselves and their brilliant undertaking.

After all, with a plan like that, what could possibly go wrong now?


	33. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

With a bright and rosy sunrise, Jack was already up the next day to oversee the loading of his ship, making sure all went according to plan. He and Captain Greenwood stood at the pier, watching the men of Jack's crew carry all the barrels out of Greenwood's warehouse that contained weapons, powder and lead, all carefully distributed so that none of the barrels would be heavier than a barrel of spirit or wine.

"Isn't loading a ship a satisfying sight", Greenwood said.  
"I prefer the unloading bit, as it leads to the actual profit, but I do agree with you, Horace." Jack grinned and crossed his arms.  
"Do you have room for all that?"  
"Of course I do. She's not just a sloop, my Jade Star here."  
Greenwood shot Jack a glance. "A dozen cannons are rather heavy."  
"Ah, it'll all be fine!" Jack grinned a happy, satisfied grin, completely occupied with the prospect of making a huge profit in the very near future. Thus it was he didn't hear the steps behind him, and only turned around when someone greeted him.

"Captain McGuyre!"  
Jack spun around. "Oh, I wish you a good morning, Harbourmaster!" _God__ what are you do__ing here at this time of morning ye bloody bastard__ don't __ye__ have a bed and a wife at home... _But then Jack remembered that no, he hadn't. He resolutely kept on grinning.

"Out for an early venture, Captain?"  
"Oh, I plan to leave with the evening tide, Harbourmaster."  
"Where's it going, then?"  
_Oh __gawd __go bugger someone else._ "Curacao."  
"Curacao? That's a fair journey, and no mistake. What is it in Curacao draws you, Captain?"  
"A bit of this, and a bit of that. Curacao is the largest free port in the Caribbean Sea, and I had hopes of making a fast little bit of profit there, being as I was bound to lie in harbour for so long now."  
"I did wonder, Captain, if you had not only settled but retired as well."  
"Oh, allow a man a bit of a honeymoon after recovering from an exhausting journey, Harbourmaster."  
"By all means, Captain McGuyre."

Jack watched with a slight tang of worry as his men rolled the first of the cannons out of Greenwood's warehouse.

"Ah, I see you stock up on armaments as well, Captain."  
"You can't be too precautious, Harbourmaster. The sea's a dangerous place, and no mistake!"  
"Quite so, Captain McGuyre."

Wishing for the Harbourmaster to drop dead on the spot, Jack had to do what he could to get rid of him. But not talking didn't seem to work, so maybe he could distract the man somehow...

"And in addition to that, having lost so much to pirates already, I do not plan on doing them that favour ever again, you see?"

The second cannon was rolled on board, followed by two more barrels. The lead, by the way the men looked who carried them.

"So you stock up on arms. A wise move, Captain, a wise move. How many cannons does your ship hold?"  
"A dozen, and I wish I could double that", Jack gave back, remembering that as she had still been the Black Pearl, she had indeed carried double the amount of cannons. Not that she didn't do so now, but not precisely as armaments.

"She looks rather heavily loaded, Captain", the Harbourmaster remarked thoughtfully. Jack followed his gaze and had to agree, but was still hoping it would be fine, after all.  
"Oh, I am sure she can take it, Harbourmaster. I'd rather sacrifice some speed for the sake of protection than lose everything again."  
"Like the knights of the ancients, indeed!" The harbourmaster laughed and Jack joined in.  
"Exactly. Armed and padded up to the ears!"

The forth cannon was brought aboard and the ship groaned softly as if moaning under the load, and tilted ever so slightly.

"Really... heavily loaded, Captain."  
"Oh, she'll be fine. Just like a noble knight in armour."  
"Quite so, I just do wonder, really..."  
"Harbourmaster, I wouldn't worry, really, I know what she is capable of. She has never let me down, my Jade Star. Just being precautious, as you can never be too precautious, isn't that so?"  
"Well, yes but..."  
"Harbourmaster, leave the worrying about the armaments on my ship to me and tell me what I can bring from Curacao apart from some nice, Spanish sherry or tobacco? What about some nice Brussels' lace? Spices?"

"Well Captain", the harbourmaster said slowly, sill casting long and thoughtful glances at Jack's ship where his crew now brought cannon seven and eight on board. "Some lace would not be a bad idea, and I know you can buy the best in Curacao, indeed..."  
Jack chose that moment to block the Harbourmaster's view with his own form and grinned. "Done then. I bring some chests of the finest lace Curacao has to offer, and fill in the gaps between the barrels of sherry and spirit with tobacco. Port Royal shall rejoice in the style that this proud city has deserved!"  
"That sounds splendid, Captain..."  
"Of course it does", Jack beamed and took the Harbourmaster's arm, walking him slowly, yet firmly, away from his ship.

Cannon nine and ten were rolled up the plank and the ship sunk down a bit more with another groan that Jack seeked to drown out with his voice.

"Ah, the sounds of the harbour. I grew up with the creaking of the wood, and I tell you, never leaves such a sound a man's soul. Isn't that so, Harbourmaster? Like a song in my ears, the sounds of a harbour, the sighing of a hundred riggings, the sloshing of the waves against a hundred hulls, the billowing of sails, the creaking of the wood in movement..."

The harbourmaster tried to cast another glance over his shoulder but Jack gesticulated with a bright face and extended arms, dragging the baffled Harbourmaster with him.

"And that's why I can't leave the sea, and never will, you see, but I guess with you being a man of the sea himself, you know what I am talking about as you live with the songs and sounds of a harbour all your life!"  
"It is as you say, Captain..."  
"And thus, it is not only my duty but my pleasure to aid this proud city in bringing it the wealth it deserves", Jack concluded, having led the Harbourmaster sufficiently far away so he couldn't just come back without a good pretext. "Oh, how I love a nice stroll along the quay in the morning, harbourmaster, especially in such a good company, but I have to beg your forgiveness, for I have to rush back and see that those bloody scallywags of a crew have done no mischief in storing away my precious cargo and my new cannons." _And properly stored away the old ones, b__ut I'm not telling you that one! _"I bid you a wonderful good and healthy morning, harbourmaster!"

And with these words, Jack left the slightly baffled and out-manoeuvred Harbourmaster stand where he stood to hasten back to his own ship. Greenwood still stood there, unmoving, and stared at Jack's ship where the last of the cannons had just been stowed away below.  
Jack looked at his ship, too, and realised he was looking into the empty air. He slowly lowered his gaze and pursed his lips as he looked at the gangplank, lying horizontally with the railing of his ship being almost level with the quay.

"Horace", he said solemnly, casting a glance across the deck where some sailors stood, hesitating to move at all. McLeith stood at the wheel and shook his head in despair while rolling his eyes. "Horace, we need a plan B."  
"Oh aye", Greenwood said and scratched his chin. "I'll take the rum."

Jack slowly turned to face him, his facial expression containing several books. Yet none of those was one he would have cared to read.

x x x x x x x x

"Zere's a ship coming from the norz!"

Imogen looked into the direction Niels was pointing and realised he was right. A ship, heavily loaded, a brigantine under full sail creeping slowly along the line between sea and horizon. That looked like a good, profitable venture.

They had come from the north a couple of days ago, with good winds on their back but empty-handed, so Imogen had decided to cruise the entrance of the Gulf of Venezuela that shielded the Bay of Maracaibo from the Spanish Main, just for a few days more to see if something would present itself. She seemed to have had the right instinct. With a slow smile, she took out her spy glass as Niels at the wheel set course to follow the brigantine.

Yet as she looked, another sail appeared behind the horizon, another brigantine, and she, too, was as heavily loaded as the first one. A convoy, yet again. And Imogen with her barque, while having a chance against one brigantine, had no chance against two. "Damn it all to hell."  
"Captain?"  
"There's two of them, Niels."  
"Too bad."  
Imogen scoffed and lifted the spyglass again. They were holding course straight south, as if they were heading for Maracaibo itself. But the ships were not Spanish. They weren't flying any colours, but if those ships were Spanish, she was a French virgin. She adjusted the spying glass and had another look.

"Is that bloody possible", she muttered after a while. "I'm dreaming."  
"Captain?"  
"Niels. That does it. Course east north-east, Curacao."  
"Captain?"  
Imogen sighed. "Curacao. I know that ship."  
"Imogen?"

Imogen turned around and flashed Niels a grin. "It's my father." Niels blinked and Imogen shrugged. "No, I don't know, and I don't think I ever want to."

And as her first mate changed the course she had another look through her spying glass and could only confirm that yes, the first of the two brigantines was indeed her father's ship, the Jade Star of Barbados, as he had called her.

"God damn it, daddy. What he bloody, buggering hell are you doing down here like that?"

x x x x x x x x

Still puzzling over what her father was doing with two heavily loaded ships on the way to Maracaibo (although she had a faint idea and was just hoping she was wrong), Imogen kept on telling herself that it had been a good thing, in a way, that the Windhunter still had been in dock last time she had left Wilhelmstadt. For if she had been with them, she would have attacked the ships, and all the while since she and her father had parted in Tortuga almost a year ago, she had hoped never to run into him again.

But now, today, the Windhunter, the English brigantine she had commandeered, was ready and all newly painted, with a new mast and sails, rocking on the surf as if eager to be manned and flown. Imogen smiled as she walked down the gangplank and inspected her new ship, walking up and down the pier to look at her hull.

"She's a beauty", Niels said behind her and Imogen turned around and smiled.  
"Indeed. Would've been a shame to sink her."  
"So what are ye planning to do wiz her now?"  
"Man her, Niels. We'll get the crew together for her and then we shall be a convoy, too. How about that?"  
Niels grinned. "Zat sounds very promising, Captain."

Scrounging all taverns and inns and brothels in the harbour of Wilhelmstad, Imogen and Niels indeed managed to get the bones of a crew together to sail the Windhunter, at least to Tortuga where she planned on completing the crew by recruiting more men there. When the men had been assigned to the Windhunter, Imogen called both her crews together on board of the Albatross and positioned herself on the stairs to the helm.

"Listen up, men. There's some things going to change here now. We're a convoy now, the Windhunter will sail with us from now on, but the Albatross will be and remain the flagship. Just don't let it get into yer stupid heads, and think ye're better than the men of the Windhunter. Ye're all my crew. That's the one thing that's changing." She grinned at her men to show she hadn't really meant those words and winked. Just a "captainy" thing to say, really.

"Right, and the second thing that is going to change regards the ranks here on board." She looked across the rows of expectant faces until her eyes came to rest on Doyle. "Pete."  
"Captain!"  
"Peter Doyle, how long have ye been sailing on the Albatross now?"  
"Seven years, Captain."  
"And how long under me?"  
"More than two, Captain."  
"Perfect."  
"Captain?"  
Imogen grinned. "Doyle, I appoint you first mate from today on."  
"But Captain..."  
"That was an order."

Doyle looked at her abashed, but Imogen grinned and slowly turned around to look at Niels who was still standing beside her, yet his pale face was a mask of blank confusion mixed with dismay, and in his worried blue eyes the question burned very clearly _"What have I done wrong?"_

"And Mick Robertson, I appoint you first mate." Not taking her eyes of Niels' confused face, Imogen put a hand on his right shoulder. "To Captain Henningsen of the Windhunter."

Imogen watched in satisfaction as Henningsen's chin dropped like a landslide. "Captain... Captain... zat is..."  
"Captain Henningsen? Is there a problem with the appointment of your first mate?"  
"I..."  
Imogen felt her grin broaden at the expression on Henningsen's face. "Niels. You've done a good job, and I need someone to captain the Windhunter, someone whom I trust and can rely on. There's no one I'd give my ship to rather than you."  
Niels managed to shut his mouth and swallowed, trying to smile. "Captain, I don't know what to say..."  
"Then hold your ugly German gob", she said with a wink and a grin. "And do your job."  
Still out of his wits, Henningsen was in short supply of smart remarks and could say nothing and do nothing apart from grin a little sheepishly. "Whatever ye say, Captain."

"And now I suggest we find a cosy little tavern to celebrate our new venture with a drink, what say you, men?" Imogen called out to the crew of the Albatross as well as to the men on the Windhunter lying beside them. "I could use one!"

And amid the hailing screams of both her crews, Imogen shook hands with her former first mate and the whole lot of them swarmed down the gangplank. The visit to the governor could well wait to tomorrow, Imogen thought. It was rather late in the day, and besides, she really had reason to celebrate with her men tonight.

She didn't give the large and official looking Dutch frigate that was docked in the harbour of Wilhemstadt a single thought.


	34. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

It was a little later than Imogen had planned as she reached the governor's residence the next morning. After a rather long and rather expensive night, she had been a tad bit hung-over herself and had to employ the help of several buckets of ice-cold water to get her brain working again. By now, she felt quite restored and was in a brilliant mood as she sat down to wait for the governor to summon her.

Her smile didn't survive entering his office, however, and she felt her heart skip a beat when she looked at his face. It was pale grey, and he had dark smudges under his eyes that bespoke of a long night spent worried and sleepless."Governor van Huuiten?"  
A faint, artificial smile on his lips, the governor inclined his head. "Good morning, Captain Sparrow. Please, take a seat."  
Imogen sat down, her good mood evaporated like snow in the sun. She needed no sense of premonition or anything like it to realise she was looking into the face of bad news.

"Captain, I have news both good and bad. Do you have any particular order in which you would prefer to hear them?"  
Looking into his eyes, Imogen realised that whatever the good news might be, they would not outweigh the bad news that were also in store for her, so there was no reason to save them up for later. "Good news first."  
The governor nodded, and picked up a letter. "Captain, I am only too happy to congratulate you on behalf of Holland and the Dutch Empire. Willhelm III sends not only his regards but also a reward for you. Apart from a considerable amount, for you to spend as you please, you have been given a naval rank. Are you familiar with the ranks I am referring to?"

Imogen shook her head.

"I will be brief, Captain." He looked at the letter again and Imogen could well sense that he wanted to get this over with and get to the bad news, as if he wanted to get them off his chest. "As opposed to military ranks, the naval ranks can be awarded to someone who is not a military officer", the governor went on. "And you have been awarded a naval rank that now gives you a status and standing in society. At present, Captain is not a rank for you but a politeness towards your person as you do, in fact, own and command a ship. But from today, you also have a rank in society, not Captain yet, but on the way there, I might say."  
"And what does that mean?"  
"That anyone who does not want to honour you in addressing you as Captain will now have to address you at least as _Luitenant ter zee der 2e klasse oudste categorie._ Or _Luitenant ter zee,_ at least, as the full title is rather complicated. And let me inform you that with this rank, you have bypassed three ranks below it, which clearly tells everyone about your merits and the service for the Dutch Empire that you have provided."

And with these words, the governor handed her a small order that Imogen, following his instructions, pinned to her coat, above her heart. It felt strange as she looked down at her chest, seeing the little square medal with naval symbols on, hanging from a short band in the Dutch colours. A rank. She inhaled softly and let the breath escape through her nose in a long, drawn out sigh. "So that means I am no longer a nobody?"  
"Indeed not."  
"And I am a member of society?"  
"In a way. You are certainly not society in every sense of the word, but you are a member of the society. If you take my meaning."  
"Society being the more important, rich and aristocratic people while the society includes the rest of upright and honourable citizens?"  
He twitched a corner of his mouth. "You could put it this way, to choose a simple path to express it."  
She looked up again at his face. "No longer unimportant."  
He blinked twice before answering. "Indeed not, Captain."

Imogen nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "Funny", she said. "I should feel elated right now, shouldn't I?"  
The governor tilted his head, giving her a questioning look.  
"And yet I don't, for some reason, as I am aware that there's a piece of bad news in store for me, and by the way you look, I know that I am not going to like it. At all. What is it, governor? News from Port Royal?"

Taking a deep breath, he slowly got up and walked over to the window and watching him, Imogen could see that something like a physical weight seemed to press his shoulders down. "No. Your own family has nothing to do with this, Captain."  
She slowly rose, as well, and followed him. "Lucas, for god's sake, what has happened?"  
The governor slowly turned around again and sighed. "The irony of it", he said in a low voice. "The irony of it." He shook his head and looked out of the window again.  
"Could you please make more sense? I can't read your thoughts, you know..."  
"Wish that you could", he replied softly. "It would save me telling you."  
"Lucas..."

He turned around again and looked at her for a while she could see his jaws work. "Captain, did I ever tell you why I came to be here? Why I could be the governor of a colony at my age of two and thirty years?"  
Imogen shook her head, feeling confused.  
"I did my duty", he went on. "I did my duty, conscientiously and meticulously, as I was taught by my late father, may god rest his soul."

Imogen looked up into his face, still not comprehending what he was trying to implement. But he ignored her stare, kept on looking out of the window and went on, his voice still low.

"As the youngest son, the most common career you take up is a military one, and I had been sent to do my military service, as well. But before that, I was in education for quite a few years, and even though it was clear from the beginning that I was more of a scholar than a fighter, I had to do my duty, nonetheless. So I served my land as a naval officer for four years, until I was twenty-two. After I had served my duty, I was given the choice of remaining in the navy or retiring as an officer of reserve and taking up serving my country as a clerk in the governmental registers. I chose the registers and left my military career behind."

He took a deep breath and slowly folded his hands behind his back. "It was there that my life did the turning that led to me being here today. I discovered some severe discrepancies in the ledgers. Yet uncovering them made enemies for me, as those discrepancies had not been accidental, but fraud. Some men involved lost ranks and standings as all these missing funds were laid open, and obviously, that did not go down well. But disposing of me in person would have been far too obvious for those who had not been damaged directly yet, so to get me out of the way and hinder me in discovering anything else, I was... rewarded for my merit. I was promoted and made governor of one of the newly acquired colonies, at twenty and seven years of age. Quite a career, I might say. And I accepted this duty even if it meant to leave my homeland, most likely forever. I did my duty, Captain. There is and was never a question that a van Huuiten does his duty."

He fell silent for a while and Imogen could see he was only keeping his face under control using a massive force of will. She still had no idea where he was going at and what all this meant. Yet as she was about to ask, he turned around again and dropped his hands.

"Willhelm III is in a dreadful position, Captain. He is sitting in the middle of a delicate cobweb of alliances, pacts, truces and agreements, on the verge of a war with an enemy who is by far more powerful than he is. So the last thing that he can allow to let happen is one of his closest allies to fall away from him. And this ally, the Duke of Ijssel, has given him trouble ever since Willhelm became stadholder. He needed to forge the alliance with the Duke anew, otherwise he would be a constant threat, able to fall into Willhelm's back any moment, him being so close to Amsterdam itself. So he negotiated and renewed the alliance, binding Ijssel to Amsterdam more closely again. And I gather you understand that the favourable means of forging these alliances is by marriage. The Duke of Ijssel has only daughters.My family has always been loyal to whomever was leading the republic from the stadholder's chair, even as the republic turned protestant."

Imogen felt her jaw drop, although a part of her brain just plainly refused to make sense of these last words and simply stopped working.

A tiny, wry smile, twitched the governor's lips. "I see you are with me, Captain. Yes, this is how loyalty and doing your duty comes back to you, eventually. Relying on the fact that I will do my duty, I was not even consulted in this matter, a fact which I can understand since haste was required, but a fact that I do not like although I will have to accept it."

Imogen swallowed and the governor sighed again.

"I was plainly presented with facts that have turned into a reality that I cannot change, dislike it as I might. The ship that arrived here yesterday did not only carry this message for me, Captain. On board was also my future wife. The wedding will take place on the seventeenth day in August." He fell silent and closed his eyes.

"I hope you do understand, Imogen, that I cannot indulge in any kind of adulterous affair", he said after a while. "I cannot. I... I simply can't."

Staring at him helplessly, Imogen could find no words to say. She could only watch as he finally, either giving up or running out of strength, dropped his mask again and she could see that he had not recovered from that blow, either.

"So this is where it ends?", she finally managed to ask.  
He opened his eyes again, swallowed and shrugged. "I see no other way."

Lowering her eyes, Imogen found she was unable to accept it. Unable to even grasp it. That she had lost him, after she had had him for only so short a time...

"Imogen..."  
She looked up again.  
"I am sorry."  
"It's not your fault."  
"No, but by god... I wish I was another man. But I cannot be someone else. I cannot..."  
Imogen swallowed. "That's not your fault either. You are what you are. No more, and no less. Same as me." She felt her voice break and had to clear her throat. "We both knew it couldn't last."  
He shook his head in a vain attempt of fruitless denial. "We did", he said after a while. "But by god, not so soon..."

Imogen didn't quite know what to reply, as it was plain obvious that she agreed, and suddenly she had the feeling that whatever she would say next, it would end in tears. She cautiously looked into his face again and saw mirrored in his eyes that he, too, was fighting the same demons that she herself was battling.

He could have plain refused.  
He could keep her as his mistress. Nothing unusual, really, for any man of aristocracy.  
He could even flee. They could sail away, but even thinking it, Imogen knew that it was not only infeasible but just ridiculous. He could as little turn into a pirate as she could be a mistress, second to a mouse of a woman who suffered from faintness and headaches more often than not.

"Do not think I have not tried and think of a way out of this for me", he said after what seemed like an endless moment of agony. "I have. But as little as I can refuse to do my duty can I think of being adulterous"  
"No", she replied softly. "You are far too good and honourable a man to do so."  
His mouth turned into a thin line. "And that is the whole problem there, isn't it."  
"Lucas." She desperately wanted to touch him, but somehow, already she didn't dare any more. "Don't blame yourself. Without you being the man you are, we would have never..."  
"Of course not. And instead of lamenting a fate that I cannot change, I should be grateful for the time that was granted to us. But for some reason, I can't."  
Imogen looked down and sighed. "So do I."

So little time. A few months only, a few months in which they had seen each other for no more than a couple of days. Imogen felt like screaming in fury, howling in pain, but what would that change? Reigning in her frustrated anger, she swallowed and shook her head. If only...

"Lucas", she whispered. "I know that it is too late but... please... can I not have one last kiss? I swear I will never tempt you again, I swear, but please, just one last kiss? One last kiss?" It was the one thing said that was too much, and she felt her vision blur and blinked her tears away.  
He was staring down at her with a stony face.  
"Please", she whispered. "Just one last kiss, I..."  
"Imogen." His voice was hollow and hoarse. "Imogen, do not beg. Please, I..."  
"Lucas..." She was getting desperate. "Lucas..."

He leaned forward. "Do not humiliate yourself, Imogen. My bird of prey. That was what you always were to me, a bird of prey, a wild and free spirit. I tamed you and made you come to me, like I would have tamed a falcon or a hawk, but now I have to let you go. And do not think it does not hurt me. I have no words to describe how much it does. But I let you go, Imogen. I set you free. Maybe one day, you will find your own happiness again."  
She shook her head. "You know I won't."  
He sighed. "I had to say it."  
"I know."  
He hesitatingly reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "God knows I do not want to let you go. But I have to."  
"I will never be gone completely. Believe me."  
"No." Lucas swallowed and seemed to fight his tears now. "You shall remain a part of me, your love shall remain a part of me, Imogen. I shall never lose you."

With these words, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, and Imogen closed her hands around his upper arms, trying to ignore the inevitable fact that after this, she would never kiss him again. She could not stop her tears, and as their lips touched again, and again, and then one final time before they slowly and reluctantly leaned back, she saw that his eyes were moist, as well. He let go of her face and wiped the fingers of his right hand across his face, blinking a few times while avoiding her eyes. Imogen swallowed and stepping back, watching him put on his stony mask of indifference, she felt herself grow so numb that she didn't feel any pain or any tears any more.

"Farewell, Imogen", he whispered, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes one last time before he had himself under full control again. "Do never forget that I love you."  
She shook her head with a sad smile, somehow beyond tears by now. "I shan't, and I shall wait for the last of days to be with you again. Farewell, Lucas. _Ik zaal je nooit meer vergeten."__(1)_

He swallowed and thrust out his chin. "I will see you in about a month's time, Captain Sparrow."  
"Mid August then, isn't it." She took another step back.  
"I do not expect you to attend, Captain, but you are most welcome, if you so wish." There was the suggestion of an emotion in his face expressing clearly that he would completely understand if she wanted to be on the other end of the world instead.  
"If I make it, I might. Thank you, Governor." Imogen bowed and left, closing the door behind her.

The governor watched her go, then sat slowly and stiffly down at his desk again, staring at the letters on his desk as he brooded once again about the irony of it all. Now that she finally had a rank which would have enabled them to drop their level of secrecy, if cautiously, his own standing had again hewn a cleft between them that this time, nothing would be able to overcome.

He lifted his eyes to the door through which Imogen had vanished. "_Ik zaal je n__o__oit vergeten, __Imogen, mijn geliefde. No__oit meer."__(2)_

Imogen herself still felt strangely cold inside as she walked down towards the harbour, as if the pain inside her had numbed everything and all feelings. Yet as she reached her ship she couldn't help but remember the last time she had to tear a soul she loved out of her life forever. And with that, the tears finally came, and almost unable to see her way, she head for her cabin and locked the door behind her before she collapsed onto the bed, pressing her face into the pillow.

Sometimes she wondered what could possibly be left over after carving out your heart twice. Probably not much. But if so, then why did she hurt so much?

* * *

1: I will never forget you. 

2: I will not forget you, Imogen, my love. Never.


	35. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33 – Interlude**

Two for Tragedy

Sleep Eden sleep  
My fallen heart  
Slumber in peace  
Cease the pain.  
Life's just in vain  
For us to gain.  
Nothing but all the same

No healing land  
For your disease  
Drinking scorn like water  
Cascading with my tears

Beneath the candle bed

Two saddened angels – In heaven, in death

Now let us die  
Sad we lived, sad we die  
Even in your pride,  
I never blamed you

A mother's love is a sacrifice  
Together sleeping, keeping it all

No sympathy  
No eternity  
One light for each undeserved tear

Beneath the candle bed  
Two souls

With everything yet to be said

_By __Nightwish_


	36. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Feeling as if she was about to suffocate, Imogen had to flee from the confining space of her cabin at one point and go on deck for a breath of air. The sun was already low in the sky, and she blinked as she realised that she must have spent the better part of the day in her cabin, crying her eyes out, which explained why she felt so exhausted and thirsty and why her soul felt scraped raw like a freshly skinned animal.

She kept telling herself that she had not lost him completely. She would see him regularly, see how he fared, how he was, as opposed to Josh whom she had last seen when he had been two weeks old and whom she likely never would see again. But she would see Lucas... she angrily shook her head... she would see the governor regularly, and she would be able to...  
...to what?  
To look at him, talk to him as if he was a stranger, to ask him how the family was...

And never touch him again. Never kiss him again. Not even smile at him again, and he would never more smile at her. What good was it to any of them that they still would see each other regularly? It only enhanced the torture.

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and in a vain attempt to keep them at bay, Imogen took a deep breath which, despite all efforts, ended in a hoarse sob.

It was then that she heard steps behind her, coming up from below deck. Someone was dragging something heavy up the stairs, maybe Niels bringing up his chest to carry it over to the Windhunter. Hoping that whoever it was, they wouldn't notice her tears, she hugged herself and kept on staring out across the bay. The steps halted when whoever it was reached the deck, and hunching her shoulders, Imogen held her breath as not to sob again.

"Imogen?"  
It _was_ Niels. Yet she didn't answer.  
"Imogen? What's wrong?"  
"What should be wrong, Niels?" Her voice gave her away, of course, and she cleared her throat, trying to make it sound as if she just had something caught in her throat. She grimaced. _Whom am I fooling?  
_He walked up behind her. "I don't know. But I do know when someone has somezing heavy on zeir mind, and I know how it sounds when someone's been weeping."  
Imogen shrugged. "Not your business, Henningsen."  
"Probably not." He stepped around her, and Imogen could see true concern in his blue eyes.  
"Go away."  
"I won't."  
"That was an order."

Niels slowly crossed his arms. "I know that as commodore of ze fleet, ye can order me where ye like me to be. And zat as a captain on yer ship, if ye tell me to jump I am to ask how high. But ye can't order a friend, Imogen."  
She slowly looked up at him, her arms still tightly hugging her chest. "Friend?"  
Niels slowly tilted his head. "Not?"  
Imogen swallowed.  
"Listen, Mädchen. I..."  
"Niels", she interrupted him, hating herself for the tiny voice, as if she was a mouse.  
"Aye?"  
She looked up at him again and managed a smile. "Thanks."

He smiled as well. "What's wrong?"  
She avoided his eyes, staring at the horizon instead. "I'm in love, Niels."  
"Doesn't seem like a happy prospect, ze way ye look right now", he gave back drily.  
Imogen shrugged. "I can't have him."  
"And why's zat?"  
" 'cause he outranks me, Niels. By far. He loves me... but it can't be. It's just..."  
"Yes, but zere's somezing else, aye?"  
Imogen looked at Niels again. "Else?"

Niels twitched his head. "Would be ze first time a rich and wealzy man would stop himself from having an affair wiz a simple girl. Zese people don't care one way or ze ozer. I mean, no one makes a fuss if some rich bugger has a little roll-around wiz ze milk-maid. No one really cares. So where's..."  
"He's going to be married."  
"Oh. Found somezing better?"

Imogen felt herself glare at him although she couldn't blame Niels at all. This was the way these things normally were, after all.

"No", she said after a while. "He still loves me. But he doesn't want to be adulterous. And I don't want him to be, either. And that's that, Niels. He's going to be married, and we'll never kiss again."  
"Devil's arsehole", Niels said softly. "Had a taste of ze fruits but can't pick zem?"  
Imogen bit her lower lip. "Precisely."  
Niels shook his head. "Is zere anyzing ye haven't gone zrough already, girl?"  
Imogen looked away again and shrugged.

After a long silence, Niels sighed and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I know zere's nozing I can do", he said. "But if ye can zink of somezing to, like... don't know..."  
"Niels", she said and turned around again to face him. "Can ye not just give me a hug?"  
He blinked twice, but then, with another sigh, he pulled her close and embraced her warmly. " 'course I can."

It felt good to lean against someone, Imogen realised. The simple comfort of human touch, the simple comfort of having someone to share your grief. And Niels smelled like her father, a hard working man of the sea, smelling of sweat and canvas, of tar and wood, of rum and seaweed and salt, and it was strangely comforting to have his arms around her for a while. A friend. Someone who cared.

"Thanks, Niels", she mumbled into his shoulder.  
"Anytime." He gently patted her back.  
"Niels?"  
"Aye?"  
"I think I'm going to have to start crying again anytime now", she muttered, fruitlessly fighting her tears.  
"It's all right, Mädchen."  
"What does that mean?"  
"Girl. Just girl."

She took another breath, but it only escaped as a sob. But he still had his hands on her back and giving up, Imogen just broke out into tears again, but this time, comforted by a friend.

And Niels stood there, holding her as she sobbed, and he thought grimly that it had been about time that someone offered her a shoulder to lean on. Even with the strength of hers, it was limited what a soul could endure and this, after all that she had gone through already, seemed simply an unfair load on her that she would not have to bear alone, not as long as he, Niels Peer Henningsen, could do anything about it. They would set sail for Tortuga tomorrow, and there, he decided, a little shore leave would not only do the crew good.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Once they had reached Tortuga, Imogen realised she was all too glad to give the men some shore leave. She needed some time to herself before she and Niels would go and hunt for men to complete the crew of the Windhunter and would set off again to cruise the Spanish Main.

After two nights in a nice and comfortable inn, having a bath each night much to the annoyance of the landlord and his maids, Imogen found herself a bit restored and began to spend her evenings either in the taproom or walking around the streets of Tortuga, depending on her mood. And it was on one of those walks that she saw him.

At first, she thought it was the governor himself, walking the streets of Tortuga at night, and her heart almost stopped at that. But after a second, she realised that it wasn't him and the stranger was only looking very alike to him. Trying not to stare at him as they passed each other by, she realised that the two men looked so much alike they could have well been brothers. He had the same high cheekbones and square jaw, the same straight nose and the same straight and erect posture and those long and elegant limbs. She couldn't help but turn around and follow him with her gaze as he passed her, and of course, he realised that and turned around, saw her looking at him and winked at her before turning a corner and vanishing out of sight, leaving Imogen leaning breathlessly against a wall. How could two men be so alike to each other? How could fate, or whoever was responsible for this event, be so cruel and have such a mean joke on her expense?

Feeling angry at herself for being so stupid and foolish to stare at a complete stranger in Tortuga that way, Imogen shook her head and set off again, back to the safety of the inn, to have a bottle of rum or two to numb herself. But safety was an illusion, as that strangely familiar stranger, the governor's doppelganger, had chosen that precise inn to settle down for a few drinks as well.

Still both furious and embarrassed with herself, she tried to ignore the man and sat down in a corner with her drinks, but could for the life of her not stop herself watching the guy. The likeness was not as striking in the light of the tavern, she realised. His eyes were more blue than grey and his hair was darker, a honey coloured blond, and his face was unshaven, tanned and darkened by the sun and the sea, telling of a life spent working hard, the same with his hands that were not at all elegant and slender.

Aiming not to be too obvious, she busied herself with her bottle again, trying to ignore the strange feeling that his man had induced in her. Telling herself that he was no replacement, no matter how alike he looked to the man she loved. When she looked up the next time, his table was empty and a cautious look around in the tap room told her that he had left. With a relieved sigh, Imogen sat up straight again and took another swig out of her bottle. _Stupid, stupid bitch._

But no matter how hard she drank that night, she could not forget, and the images of the man who looked so strikingly like Lucas followed her and did not let go. And then suddenly, it became clear to her what had caused this uproar: That man looked like Lucas would have if he had been born a commoner, not an aristocrat, and had spent his life working, not studying ledgers and music. This man was what Lucas could have been had he been the pirate and not the governor.

And with that realisation, all that fluttering feeling in her stomach and the clenching of her heart that she had, to her utter irritation, felt as the stranger had looked at her, vanished instantly and completely. Of course had she spent the one or other moment wondering how it could have been had he been a man of the likes of herself. She had tried to imagine him in worn and low quality clothes, badly shaven and sun-tanned, wearing a black leather tricorne just like this stranger had worn. It had never worked, and now, being presented with what her imagination had been unable to summon, she realised why she had not been able to. It was not possible. Some things were just not possible. He was what he was. No more, and certainly no less. And him being what he was had been part of the magic that had been between them. Had she tried to change that, to turn him into something he wasn't, it simply wouldn't have worked. Not even in her imagination.

And that was why it could have never worked between her and Billy. Because Billy had insisted on trying to be someone he wasn't and could never be. But with him, with Lucas, everything had been different. He had known he couldn't be something else than he was, and thus, remained the man she had fallen in love with.

The man he was. A man of honour. Doing his duty, no matter the cost for himself, and be it his own happiness.

With a heavy sigh, Imogen let herself fall back onto the bed and closed her eyes.

_"__...by god... I wish I was another man.__"_

"No", she whispered. "No, Lucas, I don't. You are precisely the man I want you to be. The man you have to be. The man you are. The man I love. Don't you ever change."

She wiped her eyes, and then stopped bothering and just let them flow. His face followed her into her sleep, into her dreams, and even falling asleep, Imogen found no peace.

_They wanted to burn her alive. She was bound to the stake, atop a pyre, and van Dijk gave the order for the pyre to be lit. They were burning her alive. Bound and unable to move, she forced herself not to cry, even as she felt the flames lick at her feet and realised __her clothes were catching fire. She felt the heat, forcing herself not to scream, forcing her panic down, the panic about being burned alive..._

_But then she heard the hoof beats, and saw him ride into the courtyard, run towards her, jump onto the burning pyre, aiming to cut her bonds and free her, to save her life. His clothes caught fire as well, but as __soon as s__he was free, suddenly the skies __above them __opened. Rain fell, a downpour, a tropical rainstorm, drenching them unto their skins, washing away the burned clothes until they stood naked, facing each other, and he closed his arms around her and kissed her__. She melted into his arms, sinking to the ground with him, and they joined their bodies wi__t__h the rain still beating down on their __bare, heated skin_

Imogen awoke gasping, the last gentle spasms deep down inside her body just ebbing off, and after a little while she needed to catch back her breath, she slowly laboured onto her feet and walked over to the window, staring out at the night sky and at the moon that hung full and low in the sky.

"God, Lucas, I miss you", she whispered into the night, her face wet with tears.

x x x x x x x x

His hands closed around the window frame, Lucas stood in his bedroom and stared out into the night, across the bay and at the horizon, trying to forget the disturbing images of his dream.

_Urged by the panic of being t__o__o late, he had raced into the courtyard at full speed, to see her stand atop an already burning pyre, bound to a stake, her clothes already catching fire. He jumped out of the saddle, panic filling him at the thought of her being burned alive..._

_And he ran the last few steps, jumped atop the burning pyre, disregarding the flames, the heat and the __fear__ of burning alive himself, to cut her bonds a__n__d free her, to save her, ignoring the fact that his own clothes were already catching fire, as well._

_And the moment as he had cut her bonds, the heavens opened up and saved them __wi__th a downpour that drenched them both unto their skins within seconds, __and, __strangely enough, __washed away__ the burned and tattered remains of their clothing off their bodies until they both stood there nake__d__, facing each other, and he closed his arms around her and kissed her. She melted into his arms, sinking to the ground with him, and they joined their bodies with the rain still beating down on their __bare, heated skin_

And now he was still trying to catch back his breath, trying to stunt his shame about his body betraying him so and getting the better of him. But he realised, as he stared into the moon that hung full and low in the sky, that the pain about the knowledge that what had happened towards the end of this dream would never happen for real drowned out all other feelings. He tightened his grip around the wood under his fingers.

"I miss you, Imogen", he whispered into the night.


	37. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

After finally having their crews together and completed, Imogen and Niels were ready to set off the following day and had a few drinks together in the Drunken Rat, toasting themselves and their venture and future undertakings. Imogen had tried to remain spirited. She had tried to remain strong and had kept a tight rein on her moods, as it was no one's fault what had happened to her and no one deserved being snapped at because of it.

She left the tavern with Niels but parted with him at the door, since he went back to his house to spend the night in his house with his family and his wife whom she had met, him having insisted on her being their guest for dinner one night.

She still smiled at her memories of Niels and Alma, who was German as he was but whom he had met in Tortuga. She was a tiny woman, could have easily walked under Niels' outstretched arm without bending down, but she was almost as broad as she was high and had forearms larger than Imogen's upper arms were. And it had been very clear that the two were very fond of each other. The visit had cheered her up somewhat, but it had also made her sad, a little melancholy twang she felt every time when she saw a couple somewhere, being reminded of her own torn and shattered dreams.

Lost in thought and broodings as she was, she passed a couple of sailors at the pier on her way to her ship and didn't look up, catching shreds of conversations about having had a bastard's luck with the barrels and the profit. She hid a faint smile as she thought of the smugglers who seemed to have escaped exposure only very narrowly, by the sound of it.

What smuggler did possibly still use that ancient trick of hiding contraband in barrels that had a false bottom and only pretended to contain liquids, with the contraband being hidden below the false bottom wrapped up to avoid any sounds... probably someone who hadn't realised that this trick was by now known by most tax officers.Walking past the groups of men, she shook her head, but had to admit that this not being discovered was a bastard's luck, indeed.

She didn't know what made her look up.  
Maybe a movement, familiar, at the edge of her vision.  
Maybe the sound of his steps, but she had not consciously heard the steps of the man walking down the pier more than fifty yards in front of her, so maybe it had been sheer chance. But he looked very, very familiar and Imogen felt her heart begin to beat faster. "Jack?"  
He didn't react, didn't even slow down. Maybe she had been mistaken... but then she saw the wooden leg. She hastened her steps to catch up with him. "Jack!"  
He still didn't slow down or turn, but she recognised that swagger everywhere, peg leg or no.  
"Jack!" Nothing. Was she wrong, after all? "Daddy?"

At this he stopped dead and spun around on his heel, a huge grin spreading on his face. He had barely time to open his arms and prepare himself for the impact as Imogen had caught up with him and threw herself into his arms with a scream of joy. They locked their arms around each other in a tight embrace.

"Imogen, god, my little mermaid, how's it going?", he said after a while as he leaned back to look at her. "What have ye done with yerself an' all?"  
Imogen wiped her eyes and couldn't stop grinning. "Been successful at privateering. God, Jack, it's so good to see ye again."  
"Same here, luv", Jack replied with a grin. "Fancy a drink?"  
"Always. Thanks, dad."

He offered her his arm and she slipped hers through his, looking at him with a huge smile that wouldn't leave her face. "Ye look good, Jack. Has married life been kind to ye?"  
Jack grinned down at her. "It has, luv. Never thought I'd enjoy settled life so much."  
"Settled?" She raised both eyebrows.  
Jack blinked and tilted his head.  
"Jack, what were ye doing in the Gulf of Venezuela?"  
He stopped and looked down at her. "What makes ye think I've been in the Gulf of Venezuela?"  
Imogen narrowed her eyes with a wry smile. "The fact that I've seen ye cruising there? You and someone else in a convoy, heavily loaded?"  
"Uhm."  
"Smuggling?"  
"Just a bit."  
"I thought ye just had said settled."

Jack's grin returned and he started walking again. "Luv, just that I'm settled doesn't mean that I'd spend the rest of me days in a rocking chair with a blanket on me knees, aye?"  
Imogen shook her head with a grin. "To be honest, dad, it would've surprised me had ye really left all piracy business completely behind, ye know."  
"Would it?" He winked.  
"Aye. Ye can take Jack Sparrow out of the piracy. But ye can't take the pirate out of Jack Sparrow."  
"With the minor little difference that I am not Jack Sparrow, luv."  
"Not to look at, no."  
"Well..."

They had reached the Faithful Bride by now and Imogen let go of Jack's arm. He grinned and opened the door for her, and she stepped inside, looked around and instantly spotted another familiar face. Yet this time, there was no flutter of joy, just a clenching of her heart, and she felt herself bite her lower lip as she followed Jack to the table where Billy sat, staring at her with his eyes widening to the point of no return.

"Hello, Billy", she said, feeling a bit shy.  
"Imogen", he replied. "Good to see you again."  
She sat down with a slightly nervous smile and she and Billy avoided looking at each other during the time that Jack took to order more drinks for them.  
"So", Jack began happily after he had sat down again. "Do tell, Imogen. How is privateering going?"  
Imogen took a sip of her rum and smiled. "Good, Jack. Successful, as I said. I've been useful to the Dutch Empire and have so far been rewarded two times with a considerable sum and have been given a naval rank."

Jack raised one eyebrow, curling his upper lip in confusion.  
"A rank", Imogen explained. "A naval rank that gives me standing in society."  
Jack blinked. "Society?"  
"Aye."  
"Bloody hell, you're a pirate!"  
"I was."  
"Yep, same as me an' all, but ye..."  
"No, Jack, I am not a pirate any more. Not on Dutch soil."  
Jack eyes widened as painfully as Billy's had done upon seeing her enter. "They've given you...?"  
Imogen smiled into her cup. "Yes."  
"Given you what?" Billy asked and Jack and Imogen shot him a glance.  
"A general amnesty, Billy", Imogen said. "My name has been cleared of all decrees of piracy. To the Dutch authorities, I am an honourable captain. Or rather a Luitenant ter zee der 2e klasse oudste categorie." She couldn't hide a savoury grin at the expression on both Billy's and Jack's face at that rather pompously sounding title. "Or Luitenant, for short", she added.

"And what does that title bring you?" Bill asked slowly.  
"That as long as I remain on Dutch soil, no one will accuse me of piracy, and if anyone does, all I have to do is find a Dutchman who will witness that I am not, or find shelter in any Dutch harbour to be safe. Sounds rather promising, doesn't it?"  
Jack pursed his lips. "Sounds rather splendid, if you ask me."  
"So, things look good for you, then?", Bill asked with a smile and Imogen nodded as she set down her cup, deciding that her own personal troubles were nothing she would have to bother neither herself nor Jack and Billy with.

"Well, I think I shall leave you to reminiscence and get up to date with each other", Bill said and slowly got up. "I wish you a good night, Imogen. Maybe we meet again."  
"Good night, Billy", Imogen said with a smile she had to force out a bit.  
"Night, Billy", Jack said brightly. "Making sure ye are in a fit condition to get away tomorrow morning? Eager to get home, I guess, and into to the bliss of yer married life."  
Bill flashed him a lopsided grin and Imogen tilted her head. "Ye're married?"  
"Not yet. I am going to marry Louise soon after we'll be back in Port Royal."  
Hearing this, Imogen felt not the slightest feeling of jealousy or envy, only relief that he had found someone else and would no longer grieve about her. She smiled at Billy, a true smile, all the awkwardness forgotten, and he smiled back.  
"Good night then", he said and left, but as Imogen watched him go, she had the feeling she hadn't said everything she should have said.  
"Excuse me", she muttered to Jack and rose to follow Bill, and Jack watched her go with a faint smirk on his lips.

"Billy", she called as she followed him outside. He slowed down and turned around.  
"Imogen?"  
"Billy, I..." She bit her lower lip. "Billy, I'm glad ye're marrying. Truly. I'm glad ye're happy."  
He smiled at her. "Thank you, Imogen."

Clearly, both of them didn't quite know what else to say.

"Billy", Imogen said after a small moment of slightly uncomfortable silence. "I never said I'm sorry."  
"What for?"  
She crossed her arms and swallowed. "For taking the skin of yer back."  
"Well." He crossed his arms in turn. "I did disregard my captain's orders."  
Imogen pressed her lips together upon hearing this and took a deep breath before answering. "Aye. So ye did. But every man deserves one warning, Billy. And in my mood, afraid of a mutiny, didn't even give ye that. And to what avail? I had the mutiny on me hands anyway."  
"I hope you..."  
"Oh, Aye. I shot one man and the rest re-thought." She avoided his eyes. "Billy, I am sorry. I was an awful bitch then and I..."  
"Imogen", he interrupted her gently. "It's past and done."  
She looked up again and shrugged. "Aye. But that doesn't mean I don't regret it."  
"Imogen. I know you had gone through a lot and were not really master of yourself. I do not blame you."  
"Honestly?" She looked at him intensely to figure out if he was trying to soothe her over and soften her up with meaningless words. But that didn't seem to be the case.  
"Honestly. Well, I did blame you, for a while. But thinking again about what had happened to you, I did no longer blame you. I am glad you found back to yourself, Imogen. You seem to have healed." He looked at her in turn, deeply into her eyes. "I am glad you could find healing."  
Imogen took a deep breath. "Thanks."

They both stared silently at their feet for a while.

"Billy", Imogen finally said.  
"Yes?"  
"How's Josh?" She managed to look up and saw him smile at her.  
"He's fine", Bill replied. "You can practically watch him grow, and he has started talking somewhat, although Louise and Jack seem to be the only people to understand him. He's soon going to walk, as well. He's lovely. I thank you every day for giving him to me, Imogen."  
Wiping her eyes, Imogen still had to smile. "That gladdens my heart, Billy. I still miss him."  
"No doubt you do", Bill said gently. "We all love him to bits, you know. I am afraid we're all going to spoil him absolutely rotten."  
"No doubt you do", Imogen gave back with a small grin. "I'm glad ye're all happy."  
"And you?", Billy asked. "Are you happy?"

Imogen stared at him for a while. "I was", she whispered then. "For a wee while. And maybe someday I will be again. You know how it is to lose someone you love."  
"I'm sorry to hear that", he said, and he seemed to truly mean it.  
Imogen shrugged. "Thanks. It'll pass, somehow. Eventually. Hopefully." She took a step back. "I wish ye all the best, Billy. Lots of love and happiness, all that. I truly do. Take good care of my little one."  
"I promise, Imogen, and it isn't hard to do. I love Josh too, you know."  
"I never doubted that", she replied, smiling sadly. "That's why I gave him to you and no one else."  
He nodded and smiled, a little sadly as well. "Farewell then, Imogen. Maybe we meet again. May you find what you wish for."  
Imogen nodded and managed a smile. "Thanks. Farewell, Billy. Give my regards to Louise and Elizabeth."  
"Will do."

With that, Bill turned around and left her, staring at his back for a while, before she managed to wrench her eyes off him and turn around to go back inside.

She flopped down onto the chair next to Jack.  
"Making farewells?"Imogen took her cup and emptied it. "And apologies."  
Jack slowly tilted his head. "Strange. The Imogen I used to know never apologized to anyone." Yet there was no scorn in his voice and Imogen slowly looked up.  
"That girl's gone."  
"Is it", he said gently and looked more closely at her. "Seems like."  
Imogen shrugged and looked into her cup.

"That's a nice piece of jewellery ye have there", Jack remarked after a while.  
"It isn't precisely jewellery, dad", Imogen said after following his glance that had rested on her cross.  
"Oh", Jack said with a grin. "Don't worry. I know, being part of society and all that. Ye have to employ every possible ruse ye can to make yerself accepted."  
Yet Imogen didn't grin, and Jack felt a little cornered by the way she looked at him.  
"That's no ruse, either", she said slowly and took a sip of her drink.  
"Sorry luv", Jack said after a moment. "Do ye mean ye've turned into one of the knee-crawling..."  
"I thank you not to insult me", Imogen said rather sharply and stared at him.  
Jack felt suddenly incredibly sheepish and stared into his cup. "Sorry, luv", he muttered.  
"It's all right. Just..." She sighed and picked up her cup again.

They drank in silence for a while.

"Imogen", Jack said then.  
"Aye?"  
"I know it's none of my business, but allow yer old man to take interest in yer personal life..."  
"No, daddy, I haven't found a new man yet." She smiled a bitter little smile at him.  
"That looked like a lie but didn't sound like one", Jack remarked slowly, narrowing his eyes.  
Imogen sighed. "I fell in love. He fell in love. We kissed."  
"That sounds rather promising", Jack ventured very cautiously.  
Imogen raised one eyebrow, filled her cup again and downed it in one go. "He's too high above me. To high in standing. Even my new rank doesn't help there. And now he's going to marry, to help forge an alliance between his liege and some ally. And that's that. I shan't kiss him ever again and... well. That's it."  
"Sounds rather sad", Jack replied, his eyes full of concern. "And here I had so hoped you'd find yer own bit of happiness, luv."  
"So did I", Imogen said after a shrug and filled her own cup again and emptied it as carelessly as the ones before. "But it wasn't meant to be." Then she rose and got up. "I have to go back to the ship. We leave with the early morning tide, as well."  
"Might as well follow yer lead", Jack said slowly, sensing that she didn't want to delve too deeply into that topic. It seemed to have happened only a short time ago, her eyes were still showing the raw pain of fresh grief. "Rather late anyway."

They walked down the pier together for a while, and trying to lighten the mood, Jack changed the subject. "So where's yer ship, luv?"  
Imogen smiled and took his arm, walking him down a pier where the Albatross was docked at the end, opposite of a newly painted brigantine.  
"There", she said and then turned and extended her arm into the other direction, pointing towards the brigantine. "And there."  
Jack's chin dropped.  
"The Windhunter. I commandeered her and thought it would be a shame to sink her, so I put her in dock, manned her, and now I'm a convoy as well. Convoy Albatross under Captain Sparrow. How does that sound?"  
Jack slowly forced his jaw shut. "Beautiful", he said, then his stare cleared up and he wrenched himself upright again. Imogen grinned.

"Well, luv, seems like ye have success in everything else, then."  
She smiled softly. "I do. I wish it was the other way round."  
"All things in good time, luv", Jack said, not knowing what he there was he could say.

Imogen looked at him silently for a while, then forced her mind away from that topic and shrugged. After walking back to the end of the pier together, Imogen and Jack said their farewells again and expressed their hopes of seeing each other now and again in Tortuga.

Jack watched her go with a thoughtful stare, trying to figure out what it was that was bothering him. It wasn't so much the fact that she seemed to have found a faith in god, something he couldn't understand, but that wasn't his business, anyway. It was something else.

_"I fell in love. He fell in love. We kissed."_

Jack scratched his chin.

_"He's too high above me. __To high in standing.__ Even my new rank doesn't help there."_

Something seemed oddly out of place. A man of high standing? How could any man of high standing fall in love with her? Well, not the falling in love bit, as she was obviously a pretty thing and had something in her head, but the meeting her was more of a problem...

_"And now he's going to marry, to help forge an alliance between his liege and some ally."_

Marriage. What was it about marriage that he remembered...? Well, yes. He had taken a quick detour to Curacao on the way back and had sold a few barrels of the nice Spanish sherry he had acquired in Maracaibo in Willhelmstad. And the city of Willhelmstad had been preparing for a large celebration. The governor's wedding.

He still stared down the pier into the darkness between she ships that had swallowed her.

"Nah, humbug", Jack resolutely said to himself as he turned around. What the hell should Imogen find in someone as snob-nosed as that bloody insolent, arrogant bugger? He shook his head. "Humbug."


	38. Chapter 36

The text in capital letters towards the end is taken from 1 Corinthian 13.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 36**

"Your carriage is ready, milord."

Lucas van Huuiten cast a last glance into the mirror and checked his wig, his lace, his buttons and his sleeves. Everything arranged to perfection, he nodded to his image in the mirror and left his bedroom, almost perfectly prepared. Almost, for the one minor detail that this perfect bridegroom lacked was a smile. He couldn't smile. Not for the life of him was he able to give the impression to anyone that he was happy. And no one would expect this of him, since everyone knew that this marriage was arranged.

Herman, his manservant, followed him downstairs into the yard behind the residence where the carriage was readied and waiting for him, opened the door and after Lucas got in, Herman closed the door and placed himself onto the back of the carriage together with the second lackey. The carriage made its way through the city, past the marketplace and stopped before the church, and on his way inside Lucas stared straight ahead, ignoring the rows and rows of smiling faces, nodding heads and fluttered fans and took his place beside the altar with an unmoving face.

Somehow, the last few days had felt as if someone else had lived them and he had only stood beside him, watching his every move and not really taking part in any of the last preparations. Frankly, he couldn't have cared less, but he dutifully had re-arranged the seating at the banquet table, listened to the menus and wines and had given his consent to almost everything. His clerks were far better in organising such events than he was and he completely trusted them to arrange everything to everyone's satisfaction.

By now, he just wanted to have this over with, to be able to stop pretending he cared. Not that he didn't care, not completely. He did care, but only insofar as he sincerely wished for them all to leave him alone and also wished for all this not to happen. But of course, he hadn't mentioned that to anyone.

He straightened up and dropped his hands as the organ started playing and the double door opened and in stepped Father Aloysius, followed by Doctor de Beer who had, as his oldest friend in the colony, declared himself happy to give away the bride who was walking beside him, her arm slipped through his. The whole congregation got up as the three of them walked down the aisle and after giving the bride's arm to Lucas who took it with a polite smile, the doctor took a seat in the second row as Lucas walked the bride the last three steps towards the altar where they both stopped to face the priest.

For the whole ceremony Lucas still felt strangely detached, as if he was standing outside his body, watching himself kneel, get up, pray, sing and finally, make his oaths. It seemed not real, in a way. But on the other hand, it was too real. He could not flee into any kind of illusion that this wasn't happening.

"Do you, Lucas Ignatius Erik van Huuiten..."

_"Imogen, I will marry you when the stars shine at noon."  
_He should have known better than to make an oath like that. It meant to tempt either god or the devil, such an oath, and thinking that this would enable them to merrily live in sin and postpone everything else into a time better suited for their minds. Clearly, this was the answer to their oath. Forever together in the next life if not in this one. So they might be together in the next life. But not in this one.

He stared at the crucified Lord above the altar. _God, forgive me for __knowingly __making an oath I could not __fulfil_, he silently prayed.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

As she walked briskly through the empty streets of Willhelmstad, Imogen couldn't even say what made her hurry so much. It wasn't that she really wanted to watch him get married; it wasn't that she necessarily had to listen to him giving those oaths to another woman, but for some reason, she had the feeling she had to be there. She didn't want to be there, by god, no, but she had the feeling that she couldn't leave him alone. She couldn't let him go through this alone, even if she could do nothing but be there, suffer with him, and watch him from a distance while remaining inconspicuous; and he wouldn't even be aware of her presence. Hopefully. She wouldn't want to cause him further grief by seeing her, but she wanted to be there as not to leave him alone.

She wasn't even sure if it made sense, but she felt compelled to try. So she hastened into the church, slipping through the doors virtually the last moment before they closed, and listened to the dark dooming thunder with which they fell shut behind her. Shoving herself through the cramped mass of people to get into a position that would enable her to see something, she ended up standing at the wall next to the confessionals, a perfect place since she could watch the ongoings but could hide behind the wooden compartments.

The doors opened again and she watched him walk in, her heart clenching in agony. It had been a stupid, foolish idea to come and watch. It had been a mad, stupid, foolish idea... But now, she couldn't leave any more and could only remain where she was. She watched him, clad in finery, looking so grand, as he took up his place beside the altar.

She also watched the bride come in, led by Doctor de Beer, and saw with a sinking heart that she was a beautiful woman, slender, elegant, moving gracefully and softly. Her face was hid behind her veil, but Imogen had no doubt that she was beautiful. And in that knowledge, she hoped to be able to someday find some solace. Maybe he could grow fond of her and didn't have to live for the rest of his life with a woman he despised.

"...so shall he speak now, or remain forever silent."

Imogen stared at the priest, unmoved and unmoving. This wasn't her father's fairy tale, and there would be no sailing together into the sunset.

Yet she couldn't stop her heart from breaking into pieces again as she watched him give the ring to her, listened to him give the oath to her, all the while remembering his words.

_"Imogen, I will marry you when the stars shine at noon."  
_Maybe they had been too smug, feeling too much in control, for truly, it must have been boisterous and vain to say such a thing, believing yourself to be glorious. It might be that god had been offended by an oath that was so obviously given because there was nothing else to give...  
But they had meant it! To be together for eternity from judgement day on... and for some time in their lives, but god obviously had different plans for them. And Imogen silently prayed for his forgiveness.

The oaths had been given, the rings exchanged. The priest called god's blessing on the union, sprinkled their joined hands with holy water and declared them husband and wife, joined before god and mankind.

With a stony face, Imogen watched him lift her veil and kiss her.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

"You may now kiss the bride."

Slowly and deliberately, Lucas lifted her veil and placed it back on her hair, looking at her face for the first time. She was a delicate, almost fragile woman, slender, with fine limbs, a neck like a swan and a small, heart-shaped face. Even in his momentary state of mind, he had to admit that she was beautiful, with her soft features and the almond-shaped pearl-blue eyes and the honey-coloured hair. She shyly smiled up at him, clearly nervous and not a little afraid, and he gently smiled at her, placed a finger under her chin and met her lips with his.

Leaning back, he saw that a bit of her fear had vanished and he smiled again, to reassure her as much as himself before he offered her his arm. With a curtsey, she took the offered arm and they left the church, followed by the congregation that only slowly inched and wormed out of the packed church due to the number of people who had been squeezed into the confined space behind the benches and in the vestibules.

He had not seen her, but then, he had not expected her there. He would indeed not blame her the slightest bit had she chosen to spend the day somewhere at the other end of the world. He would have gladly joined her, for that matter.

Opening the door of the carriage for her himself, he took another last look around, searching the crowd for a familiar face, but she wasn't there. And he was sure it was for the better. If she could be spared watching him kiss another woman, the better for both of them.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Imogen remained where she was, watching the whole congregation disperse. She still remained where she was even after everyone else had left, and she still stood there, her head leaning against the wood next to her, when the priest came back. He didn't notice her at first, but as Imogen stepped forth he turned his head to look at her, not a muscle in his face moving as Imogen stepped into the confessional.

Even as she knelt down, she heard the priest settle down on the other side of the perforated wood that separated their faces.  
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned."  
"What have you done, my child?"  
"I want a man whom I cannot have, for he is married to another woman. But I cannot just stop loving him."  
"You do know that adultery is a capital sin, my child."  
"I do. And I have sworn never to tempt him. I know it cannot be. But I cannot stop wanting him to be mine."  
The priest was silent for a while before absolving her.

Imogen left the confessional and the church in almost as much as a hurry as she had come, this time to get back onto her ship, lock herself up into her cabin and get seriously drunk, so drunk, preferably, that she wouldn't be able to think or remember anything anymore for at least a few days.

Father Aloysius left the confessional a while after Imogen had gone. "God has given you a heavy load to carry, child", he said softly, sadly shaking his head as he walked back to the altar and knelt down to pray for the three souls so helplessly caught up in a net of unhappiness that wasn't even of their doing and that nothing seemed able to change.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Back on the Albatross, Imogen slammed the door of her cabin shut behind her, threw her hat onto the table and went to the chest where she kept a personal stock of rum. It was empty.

With a heavy sigh, she fell onto the bed, propped her feet onto the chair beside it and crossed her arms, feeling like kicking the chair to splinters in her frustration. Why was the bloody rum gone just now?

Someone knocked.  
"Blast it! Go fuck yerself, whoever it is!"  
The door opened. "Imogen."  
"Niels. I meant it."  
"I saw ye come aboard and was worried."  
"Niels, I said go to hell."  
"Not quite yet." He closed the door behind him. "What's wrong?"  
She looked up with a sneer. "What's wrong? I told ye that already. I'm a bloody stupid bitch who was bloody stupid enough to fall in love with the wrong man. That's wrong."

"Somezing's happened today", Niels said slowly. "Somezing about your man?"  
"He's not mine, and it's not your business, Henningsen."  
Ignoring her stinging voice, Niels slowly walked up to the bed and looked down on her. "Sorry for intruding, Imogen, but... who?"  
"You don't want to know."  
His voice held a suggestion of concern. "So why..."  
"I don't want to talk about him. I can't have him 'cause he's married."  
Niels sighed. "Since when?"  
"Niels." Imogen looked up at him and dropped her hands. "Is there any rum left?"

He stared at her for a while and wordlessly, he turned around and left, only to return a while later with two bottles. He sat slowly down on the bed beside her. "Mind if I join ye?"  
"No."

He handed her one bottle, and took a sip from the other one. They drank for a while in companionable, if broody silence.

"Niels."  
"Aye."  
"Ye're happily married and all."  
"Quite so." He shot her a glance under raised eyebrows.  
"And I am unhappily in love."  
"Quite so." He took a swig from his bottle.  
She looked up at him. "Do ye mind..."  
He looked down at her. "Not at all."  
Imogen took another swig out of her bottle and let her head drop onto Niels' shoulder.  
Niels put an arm around her. "Bloody buggerin' mess", he said softly.  
"Ye can say that twice and only be half true", Imogen whispered and closed her eyes.

They spend some hours drinking, that is, Imogen drank, and Niels stopped after the first bottle, supplying her with more while at the same time keeping an eye on her. But she didn't do anything stupid, like deciding that blasting out her brain through her ears with a pistol would be a good idea, as he had initially been worried about, if only faintly. She just got very industriously drunk and he had to admire her stamina. She could take a hell of a drink, four bottles of rum and she was still able to stand upright, even if she swayed. "Did ye hear that?"  
"Hear what?" Niels looked up at her, but then he heard it, too. Shots cracking through the darkness outside. The two of them exchanged a worried glance.

Niels followed Imogen, who by now had to use the whole width of the hallway to reach the stairs, constantly bumping into the walls in the process, and they emerged on deck into a night that was filled with sparkling colours.

An immense, glorious fireworks display illuminated the sky above Willhelmstad, huge gold, red and green flowers blazing up in the darkness above them, so bright that they left little glowing spots in their vision when they faded. Imogen lifted her bottle to take another swig, realising with annoyance that it was empty.

Another huge flower of green and red flared up above her and she threw up her arms. "Celebrate, Curacao!", she yelled. "Celebrate, Willhelmstad! Yes, celebrate for what your bloody lives are worth, ye bloody Dutchmen! Celebrate my birthday with free drinks and fireworks!! Celebrate the twenty-third birthday of Captain Imogen Sparrow!!" After howling like a wolf for a few moments, she threw the bottle overboard with a frustrated growl and dropped her arms, staring at the outline of the city before turning away.

"Happy birthday, Imogen, old bitch", she muttered, and Niels could only stare at her as she walked back below, dragging herself as if she was five times her age.

He shook his head with a sad sigh.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

It was well past midnight when Lucas could not escape his fate any longer and retired with his lady to the new chambers that had been readied for them. She had been all gleaming happiness, no doubt taught from earliest age to keep her countenance, like he had been, but now, as she followed him into the bedroom, she looked as frightened as a child.

"Elysande", he said gently, trying to calm her, but he wasn't feeling too calm himself. It just seemed absurd to him to do what lovers did with a woman he had not spoken a word with before. Did other men in his situation feel the same scruples and hesitations, or was it just him? "Elysande, please, do not be afraid."  
She looked up at him and tried to smile. She failed utterly.  
"Elysande." He sighed. "Please, I know that I will have to hurt you, and I do not wish to do so. But believe me, it does not always have to hurt..."

THOUGH I SPEAK WITH THE TONGUES OF MEN AND ANGELS, BUT HAVE NOT LOVE, I HAVE BECOME A SOUNDING BRASS OR A CLANGING CYMBAL.

She shrugged. "It is Eve's curse, coming for all of us, milord."  
Shaking his head with another sigh, Lucas placed a hand on her cheek. "Do not call me milord, Elysande. I have a name."  
"As you wish then, Lucas."  
"Elysande. I cannot promise not to hurt you." He gently caressed her cheek. "But I promise to do what I can to hurt you as little as possible."  
"You do what you must. And I do what I must."

AND THOUGH I HAVE THE GIFT OF PROPHESY, AND UNDERSTAND ALL MYSTERIES AND ALL KNOWLEDGE, AND THOUGH I HAVE ALL FAITH, SO THAT I COULD REMOVE MOUNTAINS, BUT HAVE NOT LOVE, I AM NOTHING.

He stared at her, trying to think of something to ease her in some way, then caressed her cheek again. "You are beautiful, Elysande." But he could see in her eyes that the smile with which she replied to this was as artificial as his own. Ignoring this, he leaned forward to kiss her, trying to do what he could to ease her suffering as he slowly undressed her, and himself, to get this over with. She responded to his kisses with a desperation that bespoke of fear.

AND THOUGH I BESTOW ALL MY GOODS TO FEED THE POOR, AND THOUGH I GIVE MY BODY TO BE BURNED, BUT I HAVE NOT LOVE, IT PROFITS ME NOTHING.

It was all he could have done for her, and he knew it wasn't enough, and would never be enough. She suffered; he suffered, although certainly not as much. But as he lay beside her after the act, and she lay weeping next to him, he cradled her up into his arms and held her close to comfort her, knowing that anything he did would be futile. She let go of him after a while and eventually, fell asleep, but he himself felt sleep elude him. Memories haunted him throughout the night, refusing to let go of his soul. He found no rest.

_"__That's not your fault either. You are what you are. No more, and no less.__"_

LOVE SUFFERS LONG AND IS KIND

_"__I wanted to be a little closer to the music__"_

LOVE DOES NOT ENVY

_"__I did what I thought was right.__"_

LOVE DOES NOT PARADE ITSELF

_"__You saved my life…__"_

IT IS NOT PUFFED UP

_"__Still, this is no excuse to pay so little heed to my surroundings or the persons I had been dealing with. Or myself and my own actions, for that matter__."_

DOES NOT BEHAVE RUDELY

_"__But it's just me..."_

DOES NOT SEEK ITS OWN

_"__You were speaking nothing but the truth, I guess. That's what I am. __The bastard daughter of a pirate and a whore.__"_

IS NOT PROVOKED

_"__The shining saviour on a white steed…__"_

THINKS NO EVIL

_"__Back to being formal again, __are__ we? I liked the way you said __"__we__"__, Governor.__"_

DOES NOT REJOICE IN INIQUITY, BUT REJOICES IN THE TRUTH

_"Just one last kiss, I..."_

BEARS ALL THINGS

_"I will never be gone completely. Believe me."_

BELIEVES ALL THINGS

_"...and I shall wait for the last of da__y__s to be with you again."_

HOPES ALL THINGS

_"__Ik __zaal__ je __nooit __meer __vergeten__."_

ENDURES ALL THINGS.

In the attempt to let at least Elysande sleep and recover, he left the bed and walked over to the window, staring out into the night, watching the moon with burning eyes. Not for the first time in his life did he envy women about being allowed their tears, yet even had he thought that shedding tears would bring him relief and not only shame, he felt too shattered even to cry.

_"__Because the light… can be as frightening as the darkness.__"_

LOVE NEVER FAILS. BUT WHETHER THERE ARE PROPHECIES, THEY WILL FAIL; WHETHER THERE ARE TONGUES, THEY WILL CEASE; WHETHER THERE IS KNOWLEDGE, IT WILL VANISH AWAY. FOR WE KNOW IN PART AND WE PROPHESY IN PART.

_"__Yet there is no __darkness __without the__light__. And there is no __light__… without the__darkness__"_

BUT WHEN THAT WHICH IS PERFECT HAS COME, THEN THAT WHICH IS PART WILL BE DONE AWAY.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Imogen stood on deck and stared into the night, watching the moon sink low in the sky. Being drunk didn't help, it didn't help at all. For some cruel joke of fate, it made it even worse, for through the haze of alcohol that blurred everything else, a certain set of memories became clear as glass in the meantime, memories that flashed past her wavering consciousness as the effect of the rum slowly began to wear off in the cool night air around her.

_"__Governor, I assure you I will, as well as I am sure that I am not the only one to fully… stand up… to his words.__"_

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, I SPOKE AS A CHILD

_"I__'m not a chance, governor. What you see is what you get. Take it, or leave it.__"_

I UNDERSTOOD AS A CHILD

_"__You are a man of honour, Mr van Huuiten. It's not something I'm used to, I admit.__"_

I THOUGHT AS A CHILD

_"__I also want to say how deeply ashamed I am of my unforgivable behaviour during our last encounter. I know that I can't undo the damage that I have done, but I want you to know…__"_

BUT WHEN I BECAME A MAN, I PUT AWAY CHILDISH THINGS.

_"__Strange that I should care for your soul?__Imogen.__ Of course I do care for your soul.__"_

FOR NOW WE SEE IN A MIRROR, DIMLY, BUT THEN FACE TO FACE.

_"__And I love you. Would you like me to pray with you?__"_

NOW I KNOW IN PART, BUT THEN I SHALL KNOW JUST AS I ALSO AM KNOWN.

She still stared at the moon, whose light she knew shone on everything on earth, and silently uttered a prayer for her silvery light to carry a thought of love to him, taking some comfort in the thought that he might be watching the moon right now, as well.

AND NOW ABIDE FAITH, HOPE, LOVE, THESE THREE; BUT THE GREATEST OF THESE IS LOVE.


	39. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

The nights and the evenings were the worst. While her days were filled with either sailing, manning the helm, setting their course or conferring with Niels about their actions, their strategies and their tactics, the evenings and nights were long and lonely.

It was only slightly better to be on land again, and Imogen sought out a quiet corner in the Golden Anchor once they had docked in Tortuga, fortified with two bottles of her favourite spiced rum, put her legs onto the table and started to get drunk. Tomorrow they would set sail again, heading back south for Curacao with their plan being to pass down along the Caribbee Islands to the east, right along the main shipping route between the English colonies of Barbados and Jamaica.

It had been August as Imogen had last been in Wilhelmstad, now it was October, and she still wasn't sure if she should find any kind of pretext or just say the plain truth when she would be back as to why she had missed the last scheduled meeting with the governor.

The truth was, she had not been able to face him. Maybe he would understand it.  
Pretext could be that since it was autumn now, the hurricane season was over and shipping easy and thus, busy along the Spanish Main. That was also the truth, but only partly. And with their planned route, she would miss the October and likely the November meeting as well, and for that, she would need a very good pretext. Maybe not wanting to come back empty handed would be sufficient. Having almost drained half the first bottle, Imogen suddenly realised with dismay that she didn't care anymore. She didn't want to go back. She did not want to see him, ever again.

And on the other hand, she did. Desperately. But nothing in the world could ease the pain of longing that she still felt every time she thought about him or was haunted by dreams that did not let her rest. What a strange mix of feeling this was. She didn't want to see him ever again, and yet, she longed for his presence and felt she was wilting like Uettersen's tulips had. Their dried and brittle remains were still sitting in the crock on her desk, as a remainder of the frailty of happiness she had never thrown them away. They were a pretty good allegory as to how she felt right now. Dried out. Dead.

Closing her eyes with a sigh, she didn't hear the steps coming up to her table.

"Care for a drink?"  
Imogen opened one eye, blinked and opened the other one as well. "What do ye want?"  
"Stand ye a drink", the governor's doppelganger said with a faint smile. "Interested?"  
"Can't say I'm bothered right now."  
He set two bottles down onto the table before her. "Send me away if ye'd rather be left alone."  
Imogen shrugged and lifted her legs off the table. "Who are ye anyway?"

He sat down on the chair opposite her, turning it round so he could rest his arms on the back while looking at her. "Henk."  
Imogen took a swig from her bottle. "So tell me, Henk Whoever, what ye want of me."  
"Henk van Veen, if you have to know." He smiled thinly and took a swig out of his.  
"Oh, a Dutchman", Imogen said with raised eyebrows.  
"Got a problem with that?", he muttered in Dutch and, in English, said aloud: "A Dutchman."  
"I don't have any problems with Dutchmen, you little git", Imogen answered in Dutch and he almost choked, first on his drink and then on his laughter. Wiping his eyes and mouth, still chuckling, he shook his head and grinned at her as he had finally calmed down. "Serves me right for underestimating you!"

Imogen couldn't help it, she had to grin. "So what do you want of me, Henk van Veen", she asked again, sticking to the Dutch language.  
"Nothing but sharing a drink with you, apart from mere curiosity", he gave back in the same language, still grinning.  
"Curiosity?"  
He shrugged. "You caught my attention, the way you stared at me that night as we passed each other by."  
Imogen groaned. "And now you think I've fallen in love with you smelly piece of dud?"  
Henk laughed again. "Heavens, no! I said I was curious. Why did you stare at me as if you had seen a ghost?"  
She really couldn't help it, his laughter was catching, his smile captivating. "Not that it's your business."  
"Certainly not." He winked. "But I am a curious person."  
"Curiosity kills the cat", Imogen said, using the English proverb, and he chuckled.  
"And in Tortuga, it not only kills the cat but also throws it into the harbour with a lead weight tied to its feet." He took another sip of his drink and winked again.

Shaking her head with a slightly amused sigh, Imogen slowly began giving up on being cross with him. "You look like someone I know."  
"Oh." He smiled again, he seemed not to take himself too serious. "I hope someone you like."  
That brought her up short and she took a sip of her drink with a grim face.  
He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Did I say something wrong?"  
"No."  
"That was a lie."  
"Shut up!" Imogen slammed her bottle onto the table with a forceful bang. "Leave me alone. Go. I don't want to look at your damned handsome face for a second longer. Leave me alone and never seek me out again or else I'll carve your face into shreds so I'll never have to look at it again!"

He blinked twice before getting up very slowly, looking at her as if she was a wild animal that you'd better not upset by a false or hasty motion. Or a raving lunatic that you'd better not upset by a false or hasty motion, either. "Right", he said. "Sorry. Sorry for breathing the same air as you. I'll be gone. Just as you said. No need for violence." With these words, he took a few steps back and then turned around, leaving Imogen fuming with irritated fury but also burning with shame, for he certainly had not deserved being treated like that.

She made no move to call him back, however, for she had said nothing but the truth as she had said she didn't want to look at his face ever again.

Taking her bottles, Imogen fled the taproom and only after she had locked the door to her room behind her did she let her breath escape in a long, drawn out huff. But as she put the bottles down on the nightstand, she realised she didn't feel like drinking any more. With a heavy sigh, she ran both hands through her hair to smooth it back. She was in turmoil, and if there was one thing she had learned in these past weeks than if she drank in that state of mind, she was in for a restless night full of bad dreams and bad memories.

She walked over to the window instead, staring out into the darkness that shrouded the city of Tortuga like a dark and heavy blanket.

A crescent moon hung amidst the myriads of stars above, looking like a bow drawn and ready to shoot, aiming at... at what?

Resting her upper body on her hands on the windowsill, Imogen stared at the moon, wondering who would be holding that bow and what it was aiming at. Or maybe it was a boat, riding the waves of an ethereal storm up there... or maybe she was just a stupid silly old bitch with too much depression in her rum-muddled brain.

With an angry grunt, she turned around again and walked over to the bed, crossed her arms and stared at the bed, the nightstand, the bottles, and back at her bed again. She felt like kicking something into pulp and didn't even know why exactly. Well, she knew lots of reasons, lots of feelings. Maybe all those together were what was making her feel so edgy. She sat down onto the bed with another heavy sigh.

Another lonely night.

Why had the lonely nights not bothered her before? Why now, now that she knew she would never spend a night with him? Why not before, when she hadn't even thought about it?

She didn't know. But she knew, all of a sudden, that had she not been so brutally nasty with Henk, she would have grown to like him. And feeling lonely, being drunk and having a handsome young man around was a very bad combination. And the hangover after such a night was nothing she would willingly deal with. Never. And that did not include the alcohol consumed.

With another sigh, Imogen sat up again and kicked off her boots. That was what she was. A bitch in heat. She was pining for some male company. But to simply take from another man what she could not have, what _he_ had not been able to give her? She slowly shook her head.

No.

No, this wouldn't do.

"God help me", she whispered and got up, but then her eyes fell on the wall at which her bed stood. The Golden Anchor was one of the better inns in Tortuga, comfortably furnished, and there was a small, wooden cross hanging above her bed. Imogen took another deep breath, then knelt down and folded her hands onto the bed. "God help me", she whispered again. "Help me find the strength to go through all this and not shame neither me nor him." She stared at the cross, bit her lower lip and tried to sort out the words that were still in her head, sloshing around like water in a swaying cup. "Help me stay strong. Please..." She lowered her head again. "I don't want to taint the memories. I want to keep them. Please, help me to stay strong."

For a while she remained there, not knowing what else to say, but somehow, god would surely understand her words, even confused and disordered as they were?

"Please, I know I can't have him anymore, but I don't want anyone else, please help me stay strong..."

And suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

With a smile, she lifted her head again and looked back at the cross. "I do not want someone else. I want him. And for him I shall wait. Unto the last of days if I have to. And I swear that I shall never touch another man until then, other than in friendship. If I cannot have him, I will have no one else. I shall wait for him, unto death and beyond. So I swear, and you are my witness."

And all of a sudden, Imogen felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her, and she realised that this was what had bothered her so much. She had been afraid of losing what had been left of him. The memories. She had been afraid of tainting the memories, and she had no doubt that indulging in fornications while imagining something else all the while would surely have destroyed all that was left. But now that she had realised that, she could see to it that it would never happen. She could well dream of him, but not while she was trying to force her dreams to become real with another man.

Imogen took a deep breath, feeling suddenly so immensely relieved that she had to smile as she spoke again. "Please, make him happy again."

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

By now, after more than three months, it was definitely clear that the house had received a womanly touch. Walking down the hallway and looking at the new curtains, the governor had to admit that since Elysande ran his household, the flair of the place had definitely improved. Floral decorations had appeared on the mantelpieces, curtains had been exchanged, replaced by airy, lighter coloured ones and a few of the old and dusty carpets had vanished, now revealing gleaming, polished wood.

But the most significant change of all was the social bit. Almost every other day, there were guests in the house now, he could hardly save himself from tea parties, dinners, or meetings in one salon or the other. He could do without so many distractions and meaningless waste of time, but he kept a straight face, as he did not want to upset Elysande who delighted in organising such events. And of course she had been right when she had said that he, as the governor, should take more part in the life of society and stop being such a hermit.

He had not seen himself as a hermit, as such, but since he had never given social events, especially in his own house, much thought, there had never been much going on in that department. That had changed now. That, and the music. There was a lot of music around the house lately.

Elysande had discovered a harpsichord, discarded, hidden under a dustsheet in some of the unused studies in the ground floor of the west wing, and had asked his permission to summon someone to repair and tune it. He had been surprised, but, as it turned out, it had been a pleasant surprise.

She knew not only how to play, she was also very good at it. And as soon as she had taken up playing regularly, her mood had sincerely improved, as if the music was truly helping her get over the homesickness that still made her cry now and then.

They had turned the unused room that had contained the harpsichord into a study, a room for their music, and the reason for him heading there now was that his cello had also been relocated there. They both enjoyed practising together, and Lucas had not known, but was also pleasantly surprised by it that by now, quite popular, the cello was found in almost every group of stringed instruments, and solo pieces were becoming more abundant. There were even suites and sonatas for solo cello and other instruments available in Europe. Elysande had brought, just as a flicker of hope, some partitures along with her and now they both delighted in trying those out together. Yet despite it being the time she usually practised, he could not hear her play now. He entered and had a look around.

She was standing at the window, staring out, and he could see by the way her shoulders were hunched that she was crying again. With a sigh, he walked up to her. "Elysande."  
"I am sorry, milord." She did not turn around.  
"What for?"  
"For crying so much."  
"Elysande, please look at me."  
Hesitatingly she turned around, but avoided his eyes.  
With another sigh, Lucas put a finger under her chin and lifted her face, thus forcing her to look at him. "Elysande", he said gently. "You do not have to apologize for being homesick. It is not as if I could not understand you."  
She tried to smile. "Sometimes it is really bad, and sometimes, I am fine. I do not know what makes the difference. I really..."  
"Please, do stop apologizing. I know how you feel."  
She blinked a few times. "You do?"  
"I do. Believe me. I miss my homeland, too."

She bit her lower lip and looked past him, lost in memories. "I think it is my mother and sisters, that I miss them so much. I feel so alone sometimes, despite all those people around me." She smiled, a dreamy expression slowly spreading on her face. "I remember, we used to visit my mother's sister ever so often when I was younger. She had married a merchant in Utrecht, and I loved visiting her. We were always allowed to walk in the garden, and along the canals... I love the city, with all those canals and the river, and all the little bridges... me and my sisters would try and best each other in counting them. I have not been there before I had to leave... I could not say my aunt or Utrecht farewell and I miss this city even more than my own hometown. As a girl, I always dreamed of meeting and marrying a man from there once, so I could live there forever." She looked up at him. "Have you ever been to Utrecht, Lucas?"  
Lucas took a deep breath, feeling a sudden lump in his throat. He had not remembered his home so vividly in years. "I was born in Utrecht, Elysande", he said softly, and with a sad smile she rested her hand against his chest. They silently looked at each other for a while.

"Will we ever go back there?", she asked after a while.  
"We might", he replied. "Albeit I do not know when. I am all but exiled here, not in so many words, but I am exiled as while doing my duty, I have upset men far more important than me or my father. I was told that I will be recalled someday. It was never said when."  
She blinked a few times, and he saw she was trying not to show her disappointment.  
"I am sorry, Elysande, sorry that you would have to share my exile."  
"I will hold on to the hopes that we will go home, eventually", she gave back with another sad smile. "But I miss my mother and sisters... I have always imagined them being with me all the time. And it will soon be Christmas too, and I have never been without them before."

She let her head fall against his shoulder and Lucas closed his arms around her, hoping to be able to comfort her somehow. She was trembling, but also, he realised, was she snuggling her face into his shoulder and did not start to cry as he closed his arms tighter around her, holding her to his own racing heart as the realisation dawned on him that she might be falling in love with him.


	40. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Imogen closed the door behind her, preparing herself for a glare. She had always dreaded his glares. Yet he didn't even look up.

"Good morning, Captain."  
"Good morning, Governor."  
"Take a seat."  
"Thanks."

She sat down, and he still stared at the letter in front of him.  
"I hope everything is all right with you and your ship. Ships." He finally looked up, and Imogen could see it, barely concealed in his eyes: He had been worried about her. And with that realisation, all the carefully arranged phrases and meaningful explanations were suddenly gone, dissolved like a spoonful of salt in a barrel of water.

"I... felt the need to seriously practise manoeuvres, Governor. I am not used to commanding two ships."  
"Of course." He didn't even blink.  
"And since the end of the hurricane season, shipping lanes are busy."  
"I do hope your ventures were successful."  
"They were." Imogen scolded herself for her inability to keep her face under control, but she just plainly wasn't as good at t as he was. She took a deep breath and looked at her hands. "Sorry, sir."  
"It is not as if I could not understand you", he said into the silence that followed this, so softly that Imogen wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it.  
She looked up and saw him look at her with an unmoving face, so she chose not to comment on his last sentence, if he had ever said it. "How is your family, Governor?"

He raised one eyebrow and chose to treat the question as if she had truly meant it to sound like this, a casual inquiry of politeness. "Quite well, thank you for asking, Captain."  
She smiled a strange smile. He could not quite identify that sort of smile and slowly folded his hands, biding his time.  
"Are you enjoying your married life?"  
Was she torturing him or herself with that question? Or did she really hope for him to... He cleared his throat. "I am a lucky man, Captain. Elysande is a jewel to my house and my life."  
"That gladdens my heart", she replied, still smiling, then she nodded and prepared to rise. "I gather I should not take up any more of your time Governor. As from now, I will aim at keeping our schedule again."  
The governor nodded in return. "If you would, Captain. But there is something else, as well."  
Imogen sat down again. "Governor?"

With a smile, he picked up the letter that had been sitting on his desk now for weeks and handed it to her. "A letter for you from Port Royal. It arrived here quite a while ago; I have kept it safe for you."  
"Thank you." Biting her lower lip, she took the letter and gave him a cautious glance. "Do you mind if..."  
"By all means", he said and leaned back, folding his hands on his chest. He watched her as she broke the seal and unfolded the letter, and also watched her face light up with delight as she read through the few lines that were written there.  
"Thank you", she said, her eyes moist, as she had ended and looked at him again.  
Ignoring the little stinging pain in his soul at seeing her like that and not being able to comfort her, he smiled instead and inclined his head, picking up another envelope. "You are most welcome, Captain. Yet I gather that you might want to look what the letter addressed to me contained, apart from the message that my godson's happy first anniversary was celebrated."

With trembling hands, Imogen took the offered item he had removed from the envelope and as she looked at it, she realised it was a miniature painting in a thin, oval, wooden frame. She cautiously turned it around and looked at a face, the face of a young child, an infant, a little boy with dark curly hair and big brown eyes, staring at her with a solemn expression. She could look at the picture for no more than few heartbeats before her vision blurred and she had to blink her tears away.

"Hello, my love", she whispered and caressed the frame with her fingertip. "God, you've grown..."

Smiling through her tears at the face that was strange and yet, so absolutely familiar at the same time, Imogen caressed the face, aiming to memorize every line and every shade of colour that a cunning hand had been able to capture so lifelike on a little piece of canvas.  
His first birthday... she had thought of him, of course, by the end of August when she had been at sea, and prayed for him.

The governor shifted in his seat and suddenly remembering where she was, and in whose company, she jerked upright again and hastily wiped a hand across her eyes. "Sorry", she mumbled and handed the picture back to him. "Thank you for showing this to me." She tried to smile, failing utterly this time.

The governor watched her for a moment, then he leaned forward. "Imogen", he asked gently. "Do you want it?"  
Not trusting her voice, she nodded.  
He reached out and closed her fingers around the picture. "Then keep it", he said with a soft smile.  
Imogen swallowed and closed her hand around the picture as she drew her arm back. "Thank you", she whispered, her voice a little hoarse.

An awkward silence hung between them for a while.

"Captain, I do hope I will see you at the Christmas celebrations in Wilhelmstad?"  
Imogen looked up again. "Celebrations?"  
"Consider yourself invited, Captain. On Christmas evening, after the mass, my house is open to all citizens of Wilhelmstad."  
"Why, I thank you, Governor", she said, managing a smile this time. "I will be there."  
"I will look forward to seeing you there. I bid you a good day, Captain."  
Imogen rose and bowed her head. "A good day to you, Governor."

Lucas watched her go with a heavy heart and an unmoving face, yet as soon as she had closed the door behind her, he shook his head with a sigh. He had no idea where he would take the strength from to keep this up for god knew how long. Of course he had been worried about her, and these last few months had been unable not to think about what might be if something dreadful had befallen her.

Shaking these thoughts off, for they were now futile, he slowly got up and walked over to the window, watching the main doors until she emerged, her left hand closed around something small that she held close to her heart.

How often had he watched her go before. She had never looked up.

Today, she did.

He didn't move, and she hesitated in her steps for no more than a second or two before she looked away again and vanished out of sight. But he knew she had seen him, seen him watch her go.

It would be the only, the last weakness he would ever allow himself.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Three days later, bells rang for Christmas service, and Imogen, having given the crew shore leave for the holidays and attended the service, all the time trying to make up her mind if she really should go to the governor's residence afterwards or not.

Yet as she left the church, she heard someone hail her and turned around to see Paul van Rijmenant wave at her and walk up to her.  
"Imogen?" He shook his head with a grin. "I almost didn't recognise you."  
Imogen shrugged with a grin. "A blessed Christmas to you, Paul."  
"Same to you. Are you coming?"  
"Coming?"  
"To the governor's residence. He's very generous with free food and drinks at Christmas celebrations, the governor."  
"Oh well... actually, yes."

Paul grinned and together they walked down the Market Stairs and along Harbour Road towards the upper part of the city.

"Imogen..."  
"Paul?"  
"That wig..."  
"Something wrong with it?"  
"I was just wondering..."  
"What I have done with my hair?"

The day before, Imogen had bought a wig, thinking that if she was now a member of society, she might as well look a bit more the part. Her hair had proven to be difficult, however, and she had spent hours sitting in front of a mirror with a pair of scissors.

Until vanity had won and she had found out that with doing a French braid and tucking the lower end under the upper, braided part and fixing it there with a few pins worked as well. And looking into the mirror, even she had been surprised with the effect. No more hair visible, and all in all, she looked even more like a man than ever before. Which was precisely what she had been aiming for.

"So to speak."  
Imogen shrugged. "Got it out of the way."  
He blinked a few times before answering. "Seems like a shame"  
Imogen chuckled. "Depends. You'd be surprised what you can do with a braid and a few hairpins." Paul seemed genuinely relieved and Imogen had to laugh. "Is it so upsetting to think of a woman cutting off her hair?"  
"Don't get me wrong, and don't ask me why, either", he said with an embarrassed smile. "But... yes."

They shared another grin and walked the rest of the way in silence.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Imogen had to admit that Paul had not been exaggerating when he had spoken about the governor's generosity. Everywhere in the house were servants walking among the guests, carrying trays with drinks. A large room with the double door flung wide open contained a couple of tables, set along the walls, covered in food, most of which Imogen could neither name nor had any idea about how to eat. So rather than embarrassing herself, she just took a chicken leg and a bit of bread, withdrew herself into a corner and nibbled shyly at the drumstick, trying to avoid her fingers from becoming too greasy.

Talking and laughing people were scattered in groups all over the place. Somewhere, she could dimly hear some violins. Imogen walked around the house and garden for a while after she had eaten, picked up a random glass from a passing servant, discovered that it was sherry and put it onto the tray of the next one, all the while trying to spot the governor before he would spot her, to be able to keep her distance.

"Ah, Captain Sparrow."

No success there. She turned around and saw him approach, his wife at his side, her arm slipped through his. They were of course walking among the guests, making everyone welcome.

"Governor van Huuiten." She bowed. "I thank you sincerely for the invitation."  
"You are most welcome." He smiled politely. "Have I introduced you to my wife yet?"  
"You haven't."  
He looked at his wife and smiled. "My wife, Elysande. Elysande, Captain Imogen Sparrow."  
"I have heard a lot about you, Captain", Elysande van Huuiten said and, from sheer reflex most likely, held out her hand. But Imogen, having been mentally prepared for this, didn't hesitate a second and bowed over the hand, brushing it with her lips.  
"Only good things, I hope. I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Madame", she said smoothly and straightened up again, avoiding the governor's eyes.  
"Well, I do hope you will enjoy yourself tonight, Captain", he said without missing a beat. "A blessed Christmas to you."  
"The same to you, Governor, and to your lovely wife."

Elysande chuckled softly behind her fan and with another polite smile, the governor nodded at Imogen and they left her, passing on to the next group of people they had not greeted yet.

Watching them unobtrusively from the corner of her eye, Imogen could only admit what a lovely couple they were. Both were tall and fair, beautiful people, both moving with an inbred grace and elegance that Imogen knew she could never master no matter how hard she tried.

Aiming to get away from their presence that made her feel like a shabby mongrel among noble greyhounds, Imogen looked around to see if she could find Paul van Rijmenant again, she felt a lot more at ease with him than anyone else. But when she finally found him, he was standing chatting with a group of men that also contained Captain Uettersen, and deciding that she wasn't quite ready for that, she ambled around a little more, walking absentmindedly around the garden and back inside where she helped herself to a bit more food.

When the people around her seemed to gather and the whole mass of people started to purposefully drift into one direction, Imogen gave in to her curiosity and followed the people into the large atrium hall where, at the bottom of the stairs, the musicians had been playing all along, a group of a few violinists. They had stopped playing now, however, and seemed to be waiting for something.

Or someone.

For Imogen suddenly realised that there was an empty chair and leaning against it, a cello. And certainly, as if on cue, the governor and his wife joined the assembled mass of guests and walked over to the musicians. But not only the governor took his place there, on the chair with his cello, his wife joined him there, sitting down at the large, oblong box shaped thing that Imogen guessed to be a harpsichord. She had only ever heard of that particular instrument, yet never seen or even heard one.

An expectant silence spread out in the hall as the musicians picked up their instruments and the governor tuned his instrument one last time before the harpsichord sounded into the silence, playing a soft, quiet melody.

As soon as the violins joined in, Imogen had to force her face under control, and she slowly and deliberately moved back through the crowd, towards the door, where she then remained, within a safe distance to the musicians. Not to be seen.

She had thought that the cello alone was the most beautiful music she had ever heard... but she had been wrong. Accompanied with the harpsichord and a few violins in the background, the music rose to a degree of beauty that Imogen had no words for.

She wanted to leave. But she stayed.

She had to listen... but she had to close her eyes, only realising that the music was over when the people around her started to applaud. She looked over to the musicians again and saw the governor and his wife get up, and he kissed her hands, a gesture to which she responded with a brilliant, happy smile. He returned that smile as they both faced their audience, he to bow, she to curtsey.

Taking three steps backward, Imogen was out of the doors and on her way back to the harbour as fast as she could.

She had no place here. Never more. Not even the memories of his music were hers alone any more.

Two pairs of eyes had seen her depart, however.

One belonged to the governor himself, he had spotted her at the back of the crowd as they had ended their playing, and had seen her leave, or rather flee. Not the tiniest twitch in his face showed anything at all, neither that he had seen her nor that he was watching her departure in the knowledge why she was almost running.

The other pair of eyes had not only watched her depart, but also watched the governor watch her go. But as a man of his profession, a sharp perception that had been trained to spot the most minor details told him all he needed to know about both Imogen's and the governor's expressions... and definitely more than he wanted to. All in all, with him being the governor's friend and knowing him so well, he had long suspected something like this.  
But seldom before in his life had Koenraad de Beer wished more that his diagnosis was wrong.


	41. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

Imogen had been true to her word and had seen to it that the January meeting had been almost exactly four weeks after she had seen the governor the last time in his office about her duties. He had acknowledged her punctuality with no more than a polite comment, but aiming to keep to the schedule, just like she had said, she was back in Wilhelmstad in mid February.

She did not come empty handed, though. As she had cruised the Spanish Main, she had encountered a mail runner on the way from Barbados to Port Royal and had taken the chance against him. A heavily armed sloop she had been, but Imogen was a convoy now, and despite the damage to the Windhunter's hull, Imogen had won the battle and sunk the ship after salvaging the messages and the provisions. The governor had been exceptionally pleased with her and taken the messages with an eager smile.

Nothing else had happened, and Imogen had made her way back to her ship trying to ignore the fact that it had now been roughly seven months since their last kiss. It still was so vividly in her memories that she sometimes only had to close her eyes to feel his lips on hers again. And at other times... at other times it felt as if it had been ten years ago. As if it had never happened and she had only dreamed all those kisses.

But the only thing she had to do then was look down at herself, look at the golden cross that was hanging around her neck, and she knew that all that had happened.

Sometimes she wished it never had.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Late that afternoon, a messenger from the governor sought her out on board of the Albatross and informed her that the governor would like to speak to her. He made it also clear that it was necessary that she came at once, and Imogen wordlessly took her hat and got on the way.

As she was walking up the Harbour Road, heading for the upper city, Imogen wondered why she was being summoned so late in the day. It had to be something important, and she hoped sincerely that it wouldn't delay her departure. She wanted to get away from here again. Although she knew that as soon as she was away, she would want to be back.

She didn't even have to sit down to wait. As soon as she turned into the hallway, the servant opened the door for her and she entered the office.

"Governor van Huuiten?"  
He was staring out of the window. "Captain Sparrow. You doubtlessly wonder why I have summoned you this time of day."  
"I did, indeed."  
Turning around, he dropped his arms. "I have read the messages, Captain. The ones that you salvaged from the English mail runner."  
Imogen tilted her head. "So?"  
The governor pressed his lips together. "Disturbing news, Captain. I will not bother you with details that you do not need to know. But I have to ask you: Have you ever crossed the Atlantic?"  
She narrowed her eyes. "I've been to West Africa and Madagascar a few times."  
"But never to Europe?"  
"No."  
He sighed and Imogen looked at him questioningly.  
"Captain, I need these messages to go to Amsterdam. Immediately, in utmost haste."

He walked back to his desk and sat down, gesturing at the chair opposite for her to sit down. She sat, not taking her eyes off him.

"I need you to deliver these messages to Wilhelm, Captain."  
"Why me?"  
He smiled wryly. "For the simple reason that there is no one else available at present, Captain. I need a ship that is able to cross the Northern Atlantic, to take these messages to Amsterdam and bring back the reply as soon as possible. The Windhunter is the only ship in the harbour that can, Captain. And I am desperate enough to ask you to do this for me. I know that crossing the Atlantic in winter is perilous."  
"A suicide mission, that's what it is", Imogen gave back mildly. "But I am experienced in such, governor."  
"In suicide missions?" He twitched a corner of his mouth.  
Imogen shrugged. "In risking my neck for the Dutch Empire, governor. But it's not as if I hadn't gained from the things I did."  
"Does that mean you would do so again?"  
With a faint smile, Imogen held out her hand. "If you ask me to."

The governor slowly placed a single, sealed tube into her hand. "Will you risk your neck again for the Dutch Empire, Captain?"  
"I must be absolutely raving mad. I will." She closed her hand around the tube and took it.  
He took a deep breath. "Thank you. I do not enjoy sending people into such situations, you know."  
Imogen shrugged again. "Debts and duties, Governor", she said and got up, ignoring the governor's confused look. "How long do I have?"  
"As little as possible, Captain. That is all I ask. Haste back."  
"I will. And I shall leave by tomorrow."

The governor nodded and handed her a small, sealed letter. "Once you reach Amsterdam, ask for a man called Gijsbert de Keuper. Give him this. He is my main contact in Amsterdam, he will guide you and assist you in delivering the message to the right persons and he will also provide accommodation for you as you wait for the replies. You can trust him absolutely. He is the man whom I most likely owe my life, as it was him who saved me from vengeful enemies all those years ago. Once you..."  
"Governor", Imogen interrupted him. "Pardon me for being flippant, but what with all those instructions and contacts, wouldn't it be easier if you just came along and dealt with those things yourself?"

Leaning back, the governor lifted his hands, pressing the fingertips together. "Captain", he said slowly. "It would, indeed. And believe me, I would gladly deal with all this myself. But I trust you remember that I cannot simply go back just like that. I am all but exiled here." He sighed and avoided her eyes. "I have not touched Dutch soil in almost six years, Captain. And most likely, I never more will. I wish I could accompany you, but it is not possible."  
Imogen nodded slowly. "Gijsbert de Keupter?"  
"De Keuper."  
She nodded again. "I will follow your instructions. Anything else?"  
"Here." He handed her a few rolled up sheets that looked quite large. "I gathered you might need some charts."  
"Good thinking. I do." She took the charts as well and got up. "I shall leave with the morning tide, governor. I also will take as much crew as possible to make all speed I can, and leave the Albatross here."  
"Rest assured that I will see to it she still is here when you return, Captain", the governor replied with a faint smile.  
Imogen allowed herself a small grin. "Thanks for that, Governor." Then she rose and bowed. "I will see you... well. I shall see you when I am back."

The governor got up as well and walked with her to the door which he opened for her. "It will be four, most likely five months, depending on how bad the weather is. Despite that, I wish you a safe journey, Captain."  
"Thank you." Imogen put on her hat and, for the first time since she had entered, looked into his eyes. "Wish me steady winds, Governor."  
He didn't even blink as he returned the gaze. "I wish you steady winds, Captain Sparrow. I shall pray for your safe return."  
Imogen nodded silently and left, adjusting her hat as she did so.

What a madness. What a suicide mission. But there seemed to be no other way. And there had been no one else. _Captain Sparrow, forward again to save the day and the arse of some Dutch Colony. _She was not looking forward to explain to Niels where they would be sailing tomorrow.

**x x x x x x x x**

"Where?"  
"Amsterdam."  
Niels crossed his arms. "But New Amsterdam is just up norz and wiz zese..."  
"Niels. Not New Amsterdam. Amsterdam."  
"Are ye kidding me?"  
"No."  
"Good. I just zought ye had said ye wanted to cross the Atlantic in winter."  
"I did."  
Niels buried his face in his hands with a groan. "Tell me ye're joking."  
"I'm not."  
"I feared as much."He dropped his hands and looked at her again. "What by all the hairs on the devil's arse have ye been zinking?"  
Imogen shrugged. "I thought nothing, Niels. The governor asked me could I do it. He needs these messages to be in Amsterdam as soon as possible."  
"And possible is not waiting until ze crossing is not a suicide and a half?"  
"Nope."  
"_Vedammter __Haufen __dampfende __Scheisse__"_ Niels slammed his hand onto the table and Imogen stared at him in bafflement. She had never seen him get angry, never even heard him raise his voice.

"Niels..." she began, trying to calm him down, yet he glared at her under narrowed eyebrows.  
"Are ye absolutely mad? _Dumme __Gans!_ Have ye been bitten by a raving monkey? What possessed you, for god's sake!"  
"Niels!" She slammed her own hand onto the table now. "Stop shouting at me! I was given a mission, like last time. Only last time ye didn't complain as I was leading us all into what looked like certain death."  
"Last time..."  
"Niels. Who else but me?"  
"Who else but you what?"  
"Can pull something like that off and live to tell the tale?"

Niels gave her a long, assessing look, as if he meant to check that now, surely, she had lost her marbles completely.  
"Are ye coming? I've never crossed the Northern Atlantic before, and I know you have. I need you, Niels. So?"  
He still stared at her, and then, with a heavy sigh, he shook his head. "Must be as mad as you", he finally muttered. "Aye, I'm wiz ye."  
"I knew I could rely on you."  
"Don't know if zat's a compliment in zis context."  
Imogen grinned. Niels shook his head.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

"Dack!"  
Jack shifted his eyes from the letter he was trying to write and looked up grinning. Louise was standing in the open doorway to his study, Josh on her hips.  
"Dack! Dack!"  
"I'm sorry", she chuckled. "He insisted on visiting you."  
Jack got up with his grin broadening. "Well here then, little bugger", he said and held out his arms.  
Josh tilted forward and almost aimed to jump into his arms with a howl of joy. "Dack! Dack!"  
"No, Josh, we wanted to show him what you've learned", Louise said with a smile. "Come on!"

Then she went down into a crouch and set Josh before her onto the ground, holding on to his hands. With his eyes widening along with his grin, Jack lowered himself down as well and held out his arms. Smiling herself, Louise let go of Josh's hands and, waggling his arms, Josh stumbled forward one step, and another one, accelerating on the way as he tilted forward, and Jack caught him the moment he was about to fall over and swept him up, making him screech in delight.

"Hey there, Captain, that was quite an achievement!" Jack laughed, and Josh patted Jack's face with his chubby little hands. "Ships, Dack! Ships!"  
Louise sighed in amusement. "That's the only thing he ever says since you have been with him to the harbour last Sunday."  
Jack laughed again. "Wanna see the ships again, Captain? A seaman born and bred, and no mistake."  
"Ships! Ships! Ships!"  
"Right ye are. Just let yer old man get his coat. Shall we take granny as well?"  
"Danny! Ships!"  
"Right ye are."

In the end, the whole lot of them took a stroll down to the harbour, Louise and Billy, her arm slipped through his while they were walking, followed by Elizabeth and Jack on whose shoulders a delighted Josh sat, his hands digging into Jack's hair.  
"Ships!"  
"Aye. We'll be there any minute."  
Josh jerked a handful of hair, making Jack pull a face. "Ships!"  
Elizabeth had to laugh as she watched him. "He's your grandson, for sure."  
Jack shot her a grin. "Family trait, aye. With that mother and such a grandsire, and him even being conceived at sea, what else do ye expect?"  
She chuckled. "True enough. A seaman born and bred. A shame he wasn't born at sea, as well. That would have made excellent material for another generation of legends."  
"Another generation of legends?" Jack looked at her, the smile slowly dying on his face.  
"Ships!"  
"Haven't you heard the rumours?"  
He shook his head. "What rumours? I don't generally give too much on those." He plucked Josh from his shoulders and settled him on his hip.

Elizabeth slipped an arm through Jack's. "Neither do I. But sometimes, these tea-party gossips contain some information of interest."  
"No joke?" he winked.  
Elizabeth shook her head. "No Joke. I heard, from the wife of Captain Bargers, you know the one with the drooping eyes? I bet you a penny that she hates him with a passion, the vile drunkard, by the way she always is so incredibly worried about his welfare"  
"I know Bargers, luv. Get to the point", Jack said, feigning desperation.  
Elizabeth sighed angrily but then shrugged with an apologetic smile. "So, his wife told us he had told her that there was a pirate cruising the Spanish Main who no one has a chance against. They say..."  
"Ships!"  
"Who?"  
"Ach, you know. _They._ They who always say these things. They say he is in lieu with the devil because he can't be bested."  
"Ah, I see."  
"So, there is a vile and invincible pirate, and now he even has a second ship."  
"SHIPS!"  
"A convoy. A barque and a brigantine. Supposedly, he only ever attacks English ships. And he always comes from the south, and vanishes to the south. No one knows who he is. No one has ever seen him and lived to tell the tale."  
"So if no one has ever seen him to tell the tale, where do these rumours come from?"  
Elizabeth chuckled. "Don't ask me. But I guess that at least some of them who have encountered him must have survived to tell the tale."

"And that's tea party gossip?" Jack stared thoughtfully across the harbour bay. On his hip, Josh sighed deeply in delight as the objects of his desire finally came into view. "Shiiips..."  
Elizabeth placed her other hand on Jack's arm. "Yes. That and that Bargers and some others have asked the governor Burke for support against him. They are planning on raising a pirate hunter to protect the shipping lane to the east."  
Taking a deep breath, Jack blinked a few times. "Do ye think it's her?"  
"Have you not recently told me that she has a new ship? A brigantine?"  
"Aye."  
"Maybe you should try and get a message..."  
"Elizabeth", Jack said solemnly and turned around to face her. "What would that achieve? Apart from her believing I don't think her capable of dealing with her own life?"  
Elizabeth blinked and shut her mouth again. "You're right, Jack. Sorry... I can't somehow stop worrying about her."

Jack shrugged. "Well. Neither can I. But she's quite a handful. And now she has two ships... a pirate hunter would have a hard bite to chew and swallow if he encountered her. She'll manage. She can deal with everything. She's not only strong headed, but also quite strong."  
"No doubt you're right", Elizabeth replied and rested her head against his upper arm. "But maybe just knowing it to stock up on cannons would help...?"  
With Josh finally pacified, as he was now completely occupied with looking at the ships docked at the pier, Jack still stared across the harbour at the horizon. "Everything will be all right", he said softly. "Promised."

Elizabeth didn't ask whom he was talking to.


	42. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

"That was quite a bit of wind there, Captain." Doyle grinned and exchanged a glance with Niels.  
Imogen forced her jaws still and nodded.  
"Bit cold up here", Niels added, watching the cloud of his breath disperse above him into the heavy fog that hung around them in the almost wind still air.

Both men being from Northern Europe, they had little troubles with the cold, other than Imogen who had not felt her toes in days. She tried to grin, but it only made her teeth clatter again. They had passed Greenland only a few days ago and had run into a wild Northern Atlantic winter storm that they just had left behind now. Atlantic storms were not really a match for tropical hurricanes, in terms of wind speed and the force of the waves, but they were so cold! Imogen couldn't remember when, or if, she had ever frozen so much. She had the feeling that the cold had by now crept so deeply into her bones that she would never, ever be warm again.

"And there's really people willingly living within these climates?", she asked, unable to refrain her teeth form clattering.  
Niels grinned and shrugged. "Rich fishing grounds, here. Whaling too."  
"Don't people freeze to death here?" She sneezed and both Niels and Doyle had to laugh.  
"Heavens, Imogen, not everyone has been born in ze Caribbean", Niels said, still grinning. "Imagine being used to it. Air you can actually breaze, not zat hot and humid slime you have to cut into pieces first."  
"Bollocks", she muttered and sneezed again. How anyone could willingly endure this was a mystery to her. She stared across the deck and watched a white structure drift across the northern horizon. "What's that?"  
Niels followed her gaze, looked at her in confusion, then back at the horizon. "Iceberg."  
"Oh." She had only ever heard of those.

Imogen sneezed again, yet she flinched the same moment as the sound that this had produced was a moist and mighty snorting gush. The three of them spun around as another one followed and saw, towards the portside railing, a large fountain of air and water being dispersed into the air. "Whales?"  
"Greenland whales", Niels narrowed his eyes.  
"Bowhead whales", Doyle said, exchanging a quick glance with Niels. "Rather a lot of them."

Imogen followed his pointing finger and saw, between three more fountains, a large, dark grey shape emerge from the water, about a quarter as long as the Windhunter, joined by a second and a third one. Three more appeared behind those and all of a sudden, the whole sea around them seemed to begin to boil. Grey back upon grey back surfaced form the dark, leaden grey waves, and with all the blows of the countless whales it seemed as if the Windhunter was sailing through a forest made of fountains.

"There must be hundreds of them", Imogen whispered, the cold almost forgotten. All around them, grey humps surfaced and sunk again; it was impossible to count them and suddenly, Imogen knew where the legends of sea serpents had originated from. If you did not know that this were more than hundred animals, it was all too easy to think that each grey hump was part of a single, gargantuan water snake.

Two times the ship shook slightly under them as a whale brushed the hull of the Windhunter, yet the creatures were peaceful and did neither hurry their path nor seemed in any way upset by the ship passing through their ranks. A few last fountains, a last tail fin flipped up as if waving them good bye and wishing a safe journey, and the sea was silent again, still and smooth, as the herd of whales disappeared back into the mysterious depth that was their home, far down beneath the cold waves of the northern Atlantic.

As soon as the whales had vanished, Imogen remembered to freeze again and even though the spectacular sight of more than one hundred whales surfacing all at once, she could not delight very long in such a memory. She wanted to get this over with.

A few weeks more, and they would land in Amsterdam. Two or three weeks, and while it would be only slightly warmer there, she could hide herself somewhere where there was a large fire, a roaring, blazing fire, if she had anything to say about it. They had been lucky with the storms and the weather so far, but Imogen wasn't sure she would survive the cold any longer. Coughing painfully, she went below to leave the helm to her two first mates. She felt miserable and presently, didn't care about who steered the ship as long as she would eventually arrive somewhere where she could warm up again.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Due to Imogen's merciless insistence of them sailing constantly (and where could they have dropped anchor anywhere) on full strength of men day and night in shifts, the journey had taken them only slightly less than two months and they arrived in Amsterdam on a bright, crisp and sunny morning in early April. The crew were exhausted, but so was she. Ever since that storm near Greenland, she hadn't stopped coughing, and there was a dull, constant pain sitting in her chest. Yet she hadn't spared herself, she had done her shifts at the helm as well, and with the combined efforts of all the men she had been able to cram aboard, they had reached their goal. Amsterdam.

They had passed some piers and a harbour after sailing close to the coastline ever since they had reached Ireland and turned south, and Imogen had thought that surely, such a large harbour had to be Amsterdam as there were more than fifty ships in dock there, more than she had ever seen in any Caribbean harbour. Yet Niels had laughed and told her that if she thought this harbour big, then Amsterdam itself would render her speechless.

It did.

When they entered the harbour bay, Imogen could not stop herself from gaping. Row upon row of masts, stretching seemingly into all directions unto the horizon, hundreds and hundreds of them. Ships of all sizes and types, but the closer they came to the harbour front, the larger the ships became until it seemed to Imogen that the Windhunter was a mere duckling paddling through countless ranks of mighty swans. It took them more than half an hour alone to cross through the harbour and find a place to dock and Imogen was still speechless when they finally dropped their anchor.

She was still too baffled to say anything as she disembarked and walked across the quay, Niels and Pete in attendance. She had never seen a city this big. The harbour front, made up from warehouses so huge she had to lay back her head and bend over to look at their roofs, stretched into both directions in an endless wall of all kind of colours. Signs of brass, wood and sometimes even gold swung in the breeze and gleamed in the sunshine, showing tools or ships, plants or animals, half of which Imogen did not recognise.

So this was Amsterdam. One of the largest cities in the old world. Never would she have been able to dream something like this up. Alone the people and sailors that walked up and down the quay and piers could have made up half the population of the city of Tortuga.

"I don't even have a clue where to start asking for our unbeknownst friend de Keuper", Imogen muttered.  
"Try a tavern", Niels suggested and Imogen heeded his advice. Luckily, they did not have to walk far to find one. As it turned out, de Keuper was a rich and well known merchant, and he owned several warehouses on the harbour front. He would be found in one of them, it was said. So Imogen asked around until she found a large warehouse that belonged to de Keuper.

An elderly manservant opened the door. "Yes?" He mustered her in mild interest.  
"I have a message for Gijsbert de Keuper", Imogen said.  
"Can I ask whom from?"  
"Lucas van Huuiten."  
"Ah. Do come in, please."

Imogen nodded and signalled Niels and Pete to wait for her here before following the servant inside.

As it turned out, de Keuper was a middle aged man with an impressive paunch and a face like a friendly bulldog. He didn't look at her longer than two seconds before busying himself with his ledger again while listening to her explanation. He nodded and told her to bear with him for a while and buried his nose into the pages for a while longer until he seemed to have reached a point where he could take a break.

"So, a messenger from my dear friend Lucas. How fares he?" His gaze swept absentmindedly over her again, but he didn't even blink and Imogen was sure he had not realised he was not talking to a young man but to a woman.  
"Quite well." Her voice aided her; she was a little hoarse from all that coughing and sneezing, and what with her voice being deep for a woman in normal circumstances, not even that gave her away now.  
"What with him being newlywed, I sincerely hope so." He unfolded the letter and swept his eyes over the writing. "Do you know what this is about?"  
Imogen shook her head.  
"Well then." He slipped the letter into the pocket of his vest. "Go lodge in the Red Cockerel. As you go out the door, turn right and walk for about a mile and you will see it next to the guild hall of the weavers and canvassers. Say de Keuper sends you, they won't charge you. I will send a messenger once I have the replies."  
"Thank you, sir."  
"That is all for now."

Imogen left him with a small bow and realised she was quite relieved that he had not seen through her masquerade. The people in Wilhelmstad had got used to her by now, but she couldn't be arsed with going through all those stares and snickers again.

A few days. At first, she would go to that inn and order a bath as hot as it was possible. Then she would sleep, preferably with a few hot bricks under the blanket. And then, she decided, she would sleep some more, have another bath and then, maybe, she would feel like having a look around this place.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Amsterdam fascinated her. Not only was it the hugest city she had ever seen, but it was also the richest. The houses, the streets, everything bespoke of the immense wealth that Imogen knew the Dutch Empire had acquired through trade and colonisation. After two days of rest, she had started taking walks, cautiously at first, but being used to Tortuga, she knew how to behave in a city, even at night. For as wealthy and noble as Amsterdam was in daylight, at night it was full of whores, beggars, thieves, robbers and all sorts of cutthroats, all those lost souls a city of that size is prone to produce.

On a whim, she asked a vendor on the market one day where Utrecht lay, and following his instructions, she walked through the streets heading for the southern gate. It took her quite a while, and with the time she needed to get there, she guessed that Amsterdam alone must be as big as the whole island of Tortuga. And when she finally reached the south gate, she was in for a surprise.

Outside the city walls, a mellow and green landscape stretched completely flat into all directions, as far as the eye could see: green fields, pastures with sheep and cows, and windmills. The road that wound its way south through the fields was, for the length of a few yards, flanked by flowerbeds where tulips nodded in the spring breeze. She walked a few hundred yards down the road, and stopping beside a stand of some four or five birch trees with freshly sprouted, light green leaves stirring in the wind, she followed the road with her gaze and smiled.

"I greet you, Holland", she said. "And I greet you, Utrecht, even if it's only from a distance. Lucas van Huuiten sends his regards." And looking around her, Imogen began to understand his sorrow about having left this homeland behind.

_"I have not touched Dutch soil in almost six years, Captain. And most likely, I never more will.__"_

Some seagulls flew past above her, wailing as if in mourning, and Imogen sighed. She made her way back in a very thoughtful and strangely melancholy mood.

Not knowing what else to do with the rest of her day, she ambled aimlessly around the large marketplace again where she had asked for the directions to Utrecht and browsed the wares of the dozens of vendors who had their stalls and carts struck up or simply spread out blankets on the cobblestones there.  
From a woman with an immense bosom and round, rosy cheeks she bought some sweetbreads that tasted unfamiliar yet good. She had a look at the spices of one merchant or another, but compared to what she got back in Curacao, Tortuga or Trinidad, they were old and stale and not very appealing.

Yet a stall in front of a blacksmith's shop attracted her as he was selling knives of all sizes and forms. A small knife with a straight blade and a simple handle made from polished wood had caught her attention and she admired the craftsmanship and the strange, whirly pattern that adorned the blade.  
Enquiring what this was about, she learned that it was a special forging technique, using two different kinds of steel that were welded together, not cast into an alloy. A damascene blade, harder and more durable than anything else, and sharper, as well. After some serious haggling, Imogen bought the knife and a sheath with it, too. Slipping this onto her belt, she headed back for the inn when another stall caught her attention.

Yet it was neither the look of the wares nor the look of the woman who sold them that did. It was the smell. A herbal smell, strange and yet... somewhat familiar. She had a closer look.  
_Soap?  
_"Can I interest you in my wares, young sir?" The woman leaned forward and held out her arms. "Finest tallow soap, scented with all kinds of herbs and flowers. So popular that merchants carry it with them into the colonies to sell it there!"

Imogen leaned forward and picked up a few random pieces of soap, listening half heartedly to the woman's explanations about the ingredients, the herbs or flowers it was scented with and the cleaning properties (there were soaps for washing yourself, soaps for washing clothes, soaps for shaving and soaps for nothing else but putting them into the cupboard to make the laundry smell nice) when the next piece she picked up almost brought tears to her eyes.  
"Ah, now that is a very fine choice", the woman exclaimed. "Violets and lavender, not cheap to come by, all in all, but very popular with gentlemen better off who like to smell nice after shaving. Isn't that so?" She chuckled and with a bright smile, pocketed the money that Imogen handed her for the piece of soap that she wrapped up into some parchment before giving it to her.

Using all her force of will to keep her face still and under control, Imogen thanked the woman politely and got on her way back to the Red Cockerel, carrying in her pocket, her hand closed around the little package, the same scent that she had last encountered adorning the skin of Lucas van Huuiten.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Wandering restlessly through the corridors, Lucas van Huuiten realised that he was procrastinating going to bed again. Lately, he found little rest, and in the darkness and stillness of the night, he found no respite from his anxieties and worries about having send Imogen into what seemed like certain death all those weeks ago. Yet he had had no choice. He had been speaking nothing but the truth when he had said that the messages had to get to Amsterdam as soon as possible. He kept counting days, in a fruitless attempt to keep up the illusion of being in control although he knew, of course, that he could not make the time run faster. Or slower, depending on how you looked at it.

He did not know when exactly the attack was planned, but he did know that presently, with the present strength of their defences, Wilhelmstad would not be able to withstand. Their only hope lay with these messages reaching Amsterdam in time and, of course, the reinforcements reaching Curacao in time, as well. The planned strike on Curacao was part revenge for the loss of Nassau and part the plan to hold the largest harbour in the south of the Spanish Main and doubtlessly, England would send more than one ship to capture the harbour. Even without a large troupe of defenders, the harbour was as good a natural defence as you could get, but without the men to drive back an invading force, it would be of little use.

Eventually, he gave up striding through the empty hallways and headed for his bedroom. To his surprise, however, he found Elysande still awake, even still dressed, standing at the window and staring out into the night. "Elysande?"

She turned around and smiled. He could see she was worried about something, but that she also was happy to see him. They had not spoken a word with each other for five days now, as he had always been about before she had awoken and gone to bed long after her. He had taken his meals in his office, as well, buried in work and correspondence as he presently was. As he chose to be, to keep his mind of other things, things he could not change and could not do a thing about to speed them up.

"Lucas. You look so worried these last days. What is wrong?"  
He walked up beside her. "Politics and such, my dear. I would rather not burden you with my own worries."  
"I am your wife. If you wish to ease your mind, I will gladly listen." She laid a hand on his arm and looked at him in concern.  
He smiled down at her. "That is very kind of you, but I really do not wish to..." He broke off when she looked down and took her hand away.  
"Elysande. " He took her hand in his. "I am sorry I have neglected you so much these last days."  
She shrugged. "You are a man with many duties, milord."  
Lucas sighed. "That is no excuse to leave you alone all the time. I promise betterment."

Elysande cautiously looked up again, a hesitating smile on her lips. "I consider myself a lucky woman", she whispered after a while.  
He tilted his head, giving her a questioning look. "Yes?"  
She nodded and looked down again. "I was so worried and afraid on my way here, I imagined myself being married away to a fat-bellied, old miser with smelly breath..." She looked up again and smiled shyly. "But then I saw you stand beside the altar, a handsome young man with a gentle smile, and I thought that I could maybe even be happy here."

Cautiously, he laid a hand on her cheek. She was still smiling, and now looked into his eyes as she spoke.

"Yes, I think myself lucky. You are a gentle, considerate man, so well mannered and well spoken. And I was worried I would have a man who does not appreciate music, or worse, would not want me to play. You are all I could have wished for. And more than that." Her eyes grew soft and she reached out and touched his cheek with her fingertips. "Far more."  
"Elysande..." He could think of nothing to say.  
She was still smiling, a sad and knowing smile."I know. You do not have to lie to me."  
Lucas could only stare at her.

Elysande lowered her eyes again and shrugged. "If I only would not miss my sisters and my mother so much, it all would not be so bad. But I am at the other end of the world now, and neither my mother nor my sisters will be able to go through all this with me."  
"Through what?" Suddenly worried, he searched her eyes, yet she just looked at him in a mixture of badly hidden anxiety and fear, and rested a hand on her lower belly. He followed her movement with his eyes, the hairs on his arms rising as he did so.  
"Childbirth", she finally said, in a voice so low that he thought at first, almost hoped, he had not heard this right.  
"Elysande...?"  
She lowered her gaze. "I do hope I will give you a strong son, milord."

Swallowing heavily, he reached out and touched her cheek. He could find no words to say. He neither knew what to do, but following an impulse, he put his arms around Elysande and pulled her close. She leaned against him with a sigh and he rested his cheek in her hair.

She held on to him, her hands resting on his shoulders, her face resting against his neck, and he could feel a strange, tickling sensation on his skin. Realising that it was a tear, he leaned back a little and put a hand under her chin to make her look at him. "Do not cry", he whispered and kissed her, to comfort her because she was so afraid, because she was his wife, the mother of his child, because she loved him while he could never love her.

She hid her face into his shoulder again after he broke the kiss, and with a cold and leaden sorrow Lucas suddenly realised that he could not remember the taste of Imogen's kisses anymore.


	43. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

"It could well be that the attack will never come to pass, Governor."  
"I will not allow myself the luxury of those kinds of thoughts, van Dijk."  
By the way this meeting had started, it could well take another day, again. Ever since the death of van Dijk the younger, van Dijk the elder bore a grudge against him, as if he was blaming the governor for his demise of his brother. And thus, he did not let one single possibility pass by to contradict him.  
"How long since the message came into your possession? Nothing happened since, van Huuiten."  
"It could have to do with the message not reaching its destination. We have not only bought information but also time with getting that message into our hands. It may have taken them a while to realise the message never arrived and then a new one will have to be send. Hopefully, the time this takes will give us enough time to prepare."

It was the third time the governor conferred with his newly arranged council of war. There was no war on Curacao yet, and hopefully, would never be, but the message that Captain Sparrow had been able to salvage had been clear. A strike was planned against Curacao with the aim of bringing the harbour and city of Wilhelmstad under English rule. Yet most of them men in the council were sceptic, and that was probably due to the fact that one of its most important members, Godfried van Dijk, was sceptic. But maybe he was it only on principle, as he was usually against everything Lucas van Huuiten said.

Van Dijk cast him a long glance. "We could be wasting our time, van Huuiten."  
"If we do nothing, we could be wasting our lives, van Dijk."  
"I still do not believe that England will really strike at Curacao. They would be better off with St Eustatius, it is lying in front of their doorstep, after all."  
It was clear he was saying these things just to say something. That man was making him livid. "Yet it is the largest harbour in the southern Spanish Main they want, van Dijk. And that is not St Eustatius."  
"And said harbour is all the protection we ever need, van Huuiten. With four or five ships..."  
"With four or five ships, we can close the harbour." The governor folded his hands, aiming to remain calm and keep his anger in rein. "And with two English frigates, these defences are worthless, as worthless as the fort that only had its full defensive potential with the two outlying towers which have been demolished by my predecessor."

Why could he not this one time give up on his stubborn attitude of opposing him? This was not a personal whim they were discussing here, he had the proof here in writing! Not for the first time the governor wished Imogen had not taken care of Arminius van Dijk for him. Things would have been much easier if he had just been exiled or fined. But things being as they were, he now had his elder brother against him every time he said anything, and van Dijk being the man he was, that made his attempts of getting things to work almost impossible. His patience was slowly but inevitably being drained away with every word van Dijk said.

"What are you talking about? The fort is our only..."  
"You bloody well know what I am talking about!" Van Huuiten slammed a hand on the table before him and not only van Dijk, but also the other men sitting around the table flinched, and twelve pairs of eyes fixed him as his council stared at him in unmasked shock.  
_Did I just say that? Heaven help me..._ "Gentlemen", he said and cleared his throat. "Can we get back to business?"

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Still almost fuming with fury about van Dijk and his insolence, the governor made his way back into his office later that day. But at least, van Dijk had possessed a little bit of common sense and had not ventured further into the topic of the harbour fort and the demolition of its towers by his predecessor that had made room for more unloading bays. Van Dijk had been aforesaid predecessor. Him being replaced by Lucas van Huuiten, a man almost half his age, was part of the problem he had ever since with the van Dijk brothers. And after the death of Arminius, Godfried van Dijk's attitude towards him had changed from dislike to hate. But since he was an important man and the most senior military officers in Wilhelmstad, the governor had to put up with his attitudes.

Of course nothing had happened yet. If something had, they would not be discussing defences but either sitting in a prison cell as hostages or be dead. Shaking his head in angry exasperation, he picked up some papers and again, counted the days. It was mid June now, and there was hardly a chance that the Windhunter would be back anytime soon. If she would ever make it at all. Not yet four months. Not enough time to get to Europe and back, or hardly enough so. And yet, too much time that they kept on losing, waiting for news from Amsterdam.

The door opened and Herman stepped in.  
"Whoever it is, I do not wish to be disturbed. Tell them to come back tomorrow."  
"Captain Sparrow, milord."  
His head jerked up on its own accord. "What?"  
"Captain Sparrow. In person."  
He slowly let himself fall back in his chair. It was too early. That could only mean she had failed... that she had to give up on the crossing. With a heavy sigh, he nodded. "Bring her in."

"Governor van Huuiten", Imogen said after closing the door behind her.  
"Captain. Please, take a seat..." He narrowed his eyes. "Are you unwell?" She was a lot thinner than he remembered her, with the skin stretching tightly over her cheekbones, her eyes were sunk, her face was pale and her lips were flaky and white.

Imogen shrugged. She had recovered from the cough at long last, being back into warmer climates had helped her. But she still wasn't quite on the same level as before and the journey had been exhausting. "I suffered from a vicious cough that befell me after we had run into a storm", she said, her voice still a little hoarse, and licked her lips. "It took me ages to get rid of that and on the way back, our water ran foul on us, but I wanted to get back as soon as possible and couldn't stop anywhere any more for resupplying, without making a huge detour." She licked her lips again.

The governor stared at her. "Excuse me", he said after mustering her for a while before he got up, walked to the door and opened it to exchange a few words with his servant standing outside.  
"Please, continue", he said after he had sat down again. "So you did not manage the crossing?"  
Imogen blinked and tilted her head. "What? Why?"  
"You just said on your way back, after the storm..."  
"On my way back. What makes you think I did not reach my destination in between?"  
The governor blinked in astonishment. "You did?"  
"What makes you think I didn't?", Imogen asked again and reached into her coat to produce a message tube. "I left Amsterdam together with the Sterre and the Katrine, both carrying a troupe of a hundred and twenty men each. Yet after conferring with their captains, I was told to make haste on the way back and not wait for them. They are on their way to Curacao, approximately a week or so behind us now."

Lucas van Huuiten was baffled. He had never heard of someone not only surviving a crossing of the North Atlantic in winter, not to speak of someone managing the journey in less time it took other people in the best sailing weather. "You did it", he said and shook his head. "Praise god the almighty..." then he cleared his throat. "Very well." He took the sealed tube with an intake of his breath and watched Imogen again. "If I had ever needed another proof that it was a brilliant idea to employ you, I would have it now."

Imogen tried to smile, but her lips were so dry that it hurt.

The door opened that moment and Herman stepped in again, carrying a tray that he set down onto the desk. On it was nothing but a large pitcher and a glass. The servant nodded and left again, closing the door silently behind him.

With a faint smile, Lucas van Huuiten gestured at the tray. "Water, Captain. Please, help yourself."  
It was Imogen's turn to blink in surprise now, but she immediately filled the glass, emptied it in one go and had three more before she leaned back with a sigh. "God bless you for that", she said, already feeling tons better than she had before. "Thank you."  
"You are most welcome." He gave her a polite smile. "A glass of water is the least I can do for you to express my gratitude. I am impressed and incredibly relieved to see you back so soon and with success on your hands, at that. Rest assured that your merit in this affair will not go unnoticed. Thank you."

Imogen nodded and had another glass of water. "God, I thought I was going mad with thirst. I was so parched, we all were so parched we started to hallucinate about water. It was terrible, I thought we'd all go mad before we arrive."  
"I am sorry to hear that. I hope everything is all right with your crew."  
Imogen shrugged "I lost one man. It was him who first drank from the water and fell sick. Luckily it was only the one, for after that, we were more careful with what we drank. That's always the danger when you sail on long journeys. The water."

The governor nodded in understanding and mustered her again. The journey had left her exhausted and worn out, yet he hoped she would recover from that. He felt guilty about having imposed such a burden on her, but he was also grateful beyond words to express it that she had not let him down.  
More than ever did he wish he could just take her into his arms again to comfort her and... He clenched his jaws. This would lead him nowhere.

"I shall not keep you here any longer, Captain. Doubtlessly you wish to rest yourself and recover your strength."  
Imogen nodded and had another glass of water. "How is your family, Governor?" she asked as she rose.

Again? Why on earth did she insist on... Or was she maybe just right with the attempt that if they both pretended that everything was as it should be, it would help them get over what had been? "Everything is fine, thank you for asking." And maybe it would be best to get it all out at once, while the topic was up. "I am going to be a father in about seven months time."  
Her face lit up in sincere delight. "That gladdens my heart. Truly, it does. I congratulate and wish you all the best. I shall pray for your wife, Governor."  
"I thank you for that, Captain", he replied a bit more stiffly than he maybe should have. Yet Imogen smiled, but if it was a knowing smile or an annoyed smile, he could not quite discern.

"Oh, I almost forgot", she said and reached into a pocket of her coat. "I brought you something. It is nothing special, not much, but I thought, maybe it means something to you." She put a small, wrapped parcel onto the desk but strangely, avoided his eyes as she did so."I bid you a good day, Governor."  
"The same to you, Captain Sparrow."

She left after a bow and as she had closed the doors behind her and Lucas van Huuiten stared after her with a frozen face.

Of course he had confessed what was haunting him. He had also sworn to himself and to god that he would never betray his oath to Elysande. But with passing time, it became harder, not easier, to ignore the demand of something deep inside him that seemed to discard every degree of decency and propriety. That only wanted, and not considered. He hated this part of himself, it made his life a constant hell of temptation and longing. But no amount of praying and confession could change anything about the fact that even while he was married, bound by holy vows before god and mankind to Elysande, he still loved and desired another woman.

And yet, despite everything he wished, he could not have her. He did not want to...

With another heavy sigh, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Of course he could have her. When had a man in his standing had let himself ever be stopped from having a mistress or two?

_In the meadow of sinful thoughts, every flower is a perfect one. _

And a dangerous game it was to pick them.

No. Not only did he not wish to doom himself or those around him, but neither Elysande nor Imogen deserved this. Elysande did not deserve being betrayed, and Imogen did not deserve being a hidden, dark and evil secret. He swallowed again and, trying to shake off these dark thoughts he reached for the packet that she had given him.

A small, rectangular shaped parcel, wrapped tightly in oiled leather. He undid the knots in the string wound around it and unfolded the leather to discover a wooden box, bound with two strings, one around each side so they crossed in the middle. Obviously, whoever had wrapped it up had taken great pains to ensure that nothing would be spilled and the contents would not get wet. He had to employ the pen knife he used to sharpen his quills to cut through the strings and, reigning in his curiosity, opened the lid of the box a crack.

He blinked and opened the box completely. In it was nothing but a brown, crumbly substance. A powder of some sort? Wrinkling his forehead he brought the box closer to his eyes. He cautiously gave it a shake, but nothing was revealed hiding in the powder. It smelled faintly of... dirt.  
His hands suddenly trembling, Lucas put the box down onto the table again and stared at it, then he hesitatingly extended one forefinger, dipped it into the powder and brought the finger up to his eyes again, and had another, cautious sniff. Dirt. He rubbed it between thumb and finger. It felt a bit sandy.

_Soil._

He swallowed.

_"I have not touched Dutch soil in almost six years, Captain. And most likely, I never more will.__"_

"God help me", he whispered after a while and looked up again at the door through which Imogen had vanished. For he knew that if she, for whatever reason, would reappear now, then all his strength would not save him from making a terrible mistake, yet even knowing it was wrong, he could not help it. But luckily, she did not come back.

He had been brought up to be aware that love was a luxury that a man in his standing could not afford. He had not known a feeling like that could exist.

Never had he been tempted so much to do something he knew was wrong.  
Never had he had so many good reasons and excuses for doing it, to boot.  
Never had he wanted a woman that much.

A woman who knew him well. A woman who, as was proven again today, could not only see, but also touch the deepest core of his soul.

Staring at his finger, Lucas leaned forward again and then lowered his eyes back to the box and what it contained.

After endless moments, he finally unfroze himself and closed the lid of the box, then opened the bottom drawer of his desk where he unlocked a small, hidden compartment. In it was nothing apart from a few personal items and a sheet of parchment that had been crumpled and smoothed out again, and with trembling hands and an unmoving face, he took it out to look at it. He had kept it as a reminder to never again underestimate someone so and later had forgotten all about it.

On the top half was the beginning of a letter, written in a careful, steady hand... while below the text someone had sketched with quick, hasty lines the outline of a sparrow.

With slow, deliberate movements, Lucas van Huuiten wrapped the small box into this parchment and placed it into the compartment, yet as he closed the drawer he remembered something he had read once, written by the mystic Hadewijch van Brabant more than five hundred years ago.

_Love's finest speech is without words._

She had brought him a tiny little piece of homeland.


	44. Chapter 42

**Author's note:**

Antonio Vivaldi wrote a violin concerto in E flat entitled: "The Storm at Sea", but this is NOT the piece mentioned here in this chapter. I discovered that a while after I wrote this chapter, and although it made me grin, I have never listened to it, with me being too broke to buy CDs and unable to find a download anywhere, so I don't have any clue what it is like.  
Neither is it the third movement of _the summer _in Vivaldi's "Four Seasons", which describes a fierce summer storm, although I'd dare say the feeling of that particular piece of music comes somewhat close.  
The piece of music that Lucas van Huuiten plays is nonexistent. I made it up for narrative reasons. If there really is a piece of music that matches my description, then that is pure coincidence.

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**Chapter 42**

At first, Imogen didn't notice the pair of eyes staring at her, but when she finally looked up and saw the little girl stand in the corner next to the doorway of the Drunken Rat, she slowly took her feet from the table and sat up. The girl looked at her with big eyes, blinked once, almost like an owl, and vanished.  
Imogen was left with the decision between waiting and following her, but she chose to wait and sat back again. And well enough, after about half an hour, the door opened and a familiar, broad shape entered the door, carrying with it the smell of pipe tobacco.

"Well met, Captain Sparrow", Morgan said and Imogen indicated towards the empty chair opposite of her. Morgan sat down slowly, giving her a long, scrutinizing look as she did so. "How does the day greet you?"  
"Usually with a serious hangover", Imogen gave back drily and took another swig from her bottle. "What can I do for you, Morgan?"  
"Nothing. I have a little message for you from your old man."  
Imogen's attention snapped back into focus. "Aye?"  
Morgan took the pipe out of her mouth and gave it a look under narrowed eyes. "Rumours have it that a new pirate is on the rise in the Caribbean. Sails a convoy. Two ships. Brigantine and a barque." She looked up with her eyes only and shot Imogen a glance.  
"So?"  
"Captains and seamen start to moan. English ships get robbed bare. Mail runners disappear, never to be seen again. England is raising a pirate hunter, stationed in Port Royal.""I can deal with a pirate hunter, if I have to", Imogen gave back and took another sip of her rum. Morgan didn't reply at first and stared into her pipe as if trying to make up her mind to either re-light it or put it away.

"Fully armed and manned frigate", she finally said. "Two hundred men. Twenty four cannons. The Dusky Hawk, if ye have to know."  
Imogen stared at the elder woman as if she had lost her mind. "Two hundred men and two dozen cannons?"  
Morgan looked at her again. "Aye. Yer old man thought ye might want to know about that before ye run into her and stock up on arms."  
"I'm fully armed already", Imogen gave back slowly. "Do you know where she'll be patrolling?"  
"Main shipping route from Barbados to Port Royal, between Jamaica and the Caribbee Islands. South of Puerto Rico and Hispaniola, most likely."  
Imogen nodded. That was indeed useful information, on the one hand. On the other, she couldn't do anything about it. She was fully armed, she could not get more cannons on either of her ships, neither could she increase the strength of her men. "I thank you for letting me know, Morgan. I shall tread carefully for a while."

Morgan nodded. "Woe unto whomever falls into the claws of that bird", she said with a faint smirk.  
Imogen tilted her head.  
"The bird of bad luck. There's not only rumours in Port Royal about the pirate they call the Bird of Prey."  
"Bird of Prey?" Despite all she had heard before, Imogen had to grin.  
"Oh, Aye. Woe unto whomever sees the white and black barque at the horizon. That's what the sailors tell. The Albatross. The bird of bad luck, turned into a bird of prey. Take heed or else you end in his claws."  
Imogen felt her grin spread. "I never knew that."  
"Maybe ye shouldn't, either. Don't let it get into yer head."  
Imogen took another sip of rum. "Don't worry. Thanks for the warning."

Morgan got up with a nod. "Hope it'll be of some use. But ye seem hard to kill, lass."  
Imogen blinked slowly and lowered her bottle again. "Did I ever thank you?"  
The elder pirate looked down at her. "What for?"  
"For saving my life, and that of my son."  
"Not in so many words, no. But I gather you have, anyway." She smiled, a strange and somehow very knowing smile.  
"Thank you."  
Morgan gave her anther long, assessing look. "Looks like as if that experience has made ye a lot stronger."  
With a narrow grin, Imogen lifted her bottle again and had another sip. "Experience is the best and hardest of all schools."  
Shaking her head, Morgan stowed away her pipe in a pocket. "Yet to most people, experience is like the stem lamps of a ship what light only they track they've passed. It takes someone with a strong will and mind to make more of an experience than a bad memory."

Imogen didn't reply and took another long swig from her bottle. Morgan smiled a lopsided smile, flicked her head and turned around without another word. She watched her disappear through the door into the night beyond and pursed her lips. A frigate with two hundred men. Maybe it was time to shift her attention from English to Spanish ships, at least for a while.

**x x x x x x x** **x**

"Captain, there's two sails at the horizon, coming from north-west!"  
"God damn it", Captain Marlisle said and exchanged a glance with his helmsman, about the last one left of his senior officers. "Is it him?"  
"Who knows", the helmsman said. "Course?"  
Marlisle narrowed his eyes. "Our chances?"  
"With so many men of the crew already dead and the rest almost completely down with the fever? None."

The hazards of the colonising armies and forces had always been the same, and had not spared the Dusky Hawk either, arrived in the Caribbean Sea from Liverpool only a short time ago. For the highest losses in both civilians and navy soldiers were caused neither by pirates, savages, wild animals nor unknown seas, it was the diseases. Tropical fevers spread like flash fires through the ranks of soldiers and settlers and this fate had passed the crew of Captain Marlisle by. A third of his men had already succumbed to the fever that they had below deck, and another third was somewhat weakened, the men either about to fall sick or just about recovered. They had left a trail of bodies behind now for a week and morale was low, to say the least.

Marlisle took out his spying glass. He had been eager to get this mission, to prove himself and advance in ranks, to make the career he had promised himself and his father on his deathbed. That now, of all moments, they would run into their goal, this notorious pirate they called the Bird of Prey, was infuriating. It had cost Thomas Benjamin Marlisle a serious amount of convincing to get this mission in the first place. He couldn't possibly come back not only without the pirate but also without his crew. He would only prove them right, those who had said he was too young and inexperienced for a mission like that. No, he wouldn't do them that favour. He would prove them wrong.

"We are still more than they are, Cobbler. We have a trained and drilled crew and they're but disorganized, most likely drunk pirates. We have twice or more the armaments. We shall not flee."  
"Captain..."  
"No English upright soldier or officer can possibly retreat before a bunch of stinking pirates! Ready the cannons, Cobbler. That is my last word."  
"Captain this is madness..."  
"The brigg or the deck for you, Mr Cobbler. Your choice. Follow my orders or be jailed as a mutineer."

Cobbler stared at his captain, but faced with a choice like that, he'd rather die of a bullet than of the fever that had started in the brigg, after all. "Aye Captain", he muttered and got on the way to relay the orders to the remaining men while Marlisle took the wheel.

With the English flag and the coat of arms flying proudly atop the mast, the Dusky Hawk changed her course and headed for the two ships that had appeared at the northern horizon.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

"They've seen us." Imogen turned to Doyle and the Englishman nodded grimly.  
"No way to escape, I guess."  
"Let's try it, nonetheless. Don't fancy getting meself killed right now."  
"Same goes for all of us, I venture", Doyle gave back with a grin and Imogen gave orders to change course, back north again, in the hopes of making it through the Mona Passage to be able to hide somewhere in the North Riff. The Windhunter followed them, but it was soon clear that the frigate was following them much faster – the square rigged warship running directly before the wind – and was catching up. A confrontation seemed unavoidable.

With clenched jaws, Imogen gave her men the order to get to their battle stations.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

_He had almost cursed. How many times he had tried this before__ Lucas van Huuiten could not say. Having read these sheets of music__ his friend de __Keuper__ had send him a few weeks ago__for __the first time__ he had been fascinated, but now he was confronted with the unfamiliar feeling of hav__ing__ been exposed to something that was beyond his skill._

_He let the bow sink, took a deep breath, and started again._

_Prelude._

_Largo._

_Allegro._

_So far, so go__o__d._

_He stopped, looked at the notes again and took another breath. _

_Even playing it slowly, he failed again at the fastest and highest part__ towards the end__. It was uncomfortably high, too, and the feeling was creeping up on him that he would never master this particular piece of music__ a__s__ h__e stared at the notes with clenched jaws. This piece was making him feel like an utter beginner. But him being the man he was, that certainly would not stop him._

_"Once more", he said, summoning his grimace of frustration back under his usual mask again. __"With feeling."_

_It was entitled "The storm"._

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Her pistols loaded and cocked, stuck into her belt, and her sabre in hand, Imogen stood at the railing and stared across the sea at the Windhunter. They had practised a few manoeuvres, she and Niels, but never had they tried them out with more than a small, Caribbean merchantman and certainly never with a frigate, a ship far more dangerous, faster and better armed, than any merchantman in the Caribbean Sea.

This day could see the end for all of them.

Changing their course, giving up on fleeing, the two pirate ships cruised in towards each other, and for a bird watching them it would have looked as if they were cruising on a giant eight. It had always worked so far in confusing the enemy, to pass him by while exchanging their positions. It worked this time, too. Salvos coming from both sides of the frigate hit nothing but water. Which was a lucky, lucky thing. A full broadside of twelve could have easily sunk the Albatross even if only half of the balls had hit her.

Imogen knew, both from tales and from her experience, that trained and drilled naval soldiers were three times as fast in reloading their cannons than the likes of men she had on board (she had tried and begun to remedy that, but they were still nowhere near the efficiency of soldiers), but when the next salvo fell, missing the Albatross only very narrowly, only six cannons fired at her at all.

Soldiers were faster in reloading, but firing a cannon required one man, while reloading one cannon required three.

Something was wrong over there. She was, against all expectations, not fully manned, as it seemed.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x x**

_Feeling utterly foolish, Lucas picked up his bow again. He had taken a small break, a cup of tea and a glass of water, and was now __back__ in the study again. And foolish did he feel because that piece of music was beginning to play a tug of war with him. He had to master it. But it would not let him._

_He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, concentrated and looked at the sheet again. Already, before he had even started, all those little black dots seemed to mock all his efforts. And here he had believed that his long fingers would be of advantage to him when playing this piece.  
__Well, see if they don't, __Lucas __told himself and __closed__ his eyes__, i__magined being in the storm, right in the middle of it. He had opened a window and a breeze blew a soft gush of cool air into his face. __H__e __smiled__ grimly_

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

They had the greater range. Already the Albatross had taken some damage, and Imogen could only stare at the frigate and the Windhunter, trying to predict their next move to be able to react in time. But had she been alone, only one ship, they'd all have been dead long since. The Windhunter proved invaluable, and Niels proved to be an excellent navigator and captain. He made the ship ride the waves like a seal.

"Ware!"

Imogen wrenched the wheel around, for the sudden turn of the frigate caught her unawares. Another salvo of shots came from the frigate, and around her, all hell broke loose.

Chain shot.

Imogen couldn't even swear any more as she watched the devastation that left on her ship. Chain shot... two cast iron balls, tied together with a chain, fired at her ship... and now, amidst a cloud of splinters, a mess of torn rigging, shredded canvas and screaming men, she saw that the Albatross had lost all but the aft and main mast.

And the frigate held for them. Straight rendezvous.

_Crescendo. Like the slowly rising waves._

"They're ramming us, begod!"With a groan, the Albatross suddenly tilted over to one side and Imogen knew that now, all was lost. Her hull was damaged and she was running full of water. "We're going down!"  
"God save us!"  
"Men!" Imogen screamed. "We've got to save ourselves!" She wrenched the wheel around to turn, so the frigate wouldn't hit them broadsides. "We're going down, yes! Our only chance is now to take them! Board them!""Are you mad!", Doyle screamed. "That's a frigate!""Aye!" Imogen turned the wheel again and huffed. "And she's not fully manned! We can either drown like rats or try and get them! We only have that one chance!"  
After staring at her grimly for a second, Doyle nodded and turned around again. "Ready to board!"

What was left of the Albatross' crew after a load of chain shot had pulverized most of what had been on deck, making no difference between wood or flesh, readied and armed themselves. They all knew there was no other way. Yet the frigate suddenly rocked with the thundering roar of a salvo of cannons. The Windhunter had caught up with her. "God, Niels, read my thoughts..." Imogen gripped her sabre so tightly that her knuckles went white. "Read my thoughts. Ready your lads to board..." It sounded almost like a prayer. Maybe it was. There was an eerie silence as the frigate and the Albatross, by now seriously tipped over the starboard railing, neared each other for the final standoff.

_Decrescendo.__ Pause. The waves crashing down, spray flying... silence._

The men stood ready and Imogen weighed her sabre a few times in her hand as if she felt the need to get accustomed to its weight again. With another groan, the Albatross suddenly jerked to the side... and down. A gushing sound was heard from below. Her hull had burst.

But the one salvo from the Windhunter, on the other side of the frigate, had bought Imogen and the other men from the Albatross enough time to get close enough to board. With the screeching sound of wood on wood, the two hulls of the ships collided and with howling battle screams, the men threw the hooks over the railing, attempting to board the ship.

But as Imogen was about to join them, she suddenly remembered the treasure that was still hidden in her cabin below and with a curse, she spun around on her heel and jumped down the stairs.

The hull had burst above the waterline, with was the reason for her sinking so slowly, but still she had to wade through water that already reached her ankles and managed barely to push the door to her cabin open. Her movements clumsy with hastiness, she threw open the drawer of her desk and stuffed a small, oval package wrapped in oiled leather into her pocket when she saw a book lying on the bed. She grabbed this too, stuffed it into her vest and without another look, left her cabin but was thrown against a wall as the Albatross tilted again with another groan. She started to run but stopped dead when she heard a scream. From _below_.

God, there was one of her men still alive and trapped downstairs, about to drown. Gritting her teeth, Imogen ignored the fact that any minute, she would drown together with him if she didn't hurry up and ran down the corridor to the ladder that went down.

Amidst the shards and the debris floating in the water, she could see that it had not only been a salvo that had damaged the Albatross' hull, but that a few cannons had been torn loose from their ropes with the impact and had rammed cracks in the hull.

"Captain!"  
She spun around and saw him, pressed against a wall, half buried under one of the cannons. The water around him was stained with billowing red clouds.  
"Ludo!"  
"Captain, get the hell out of here!"  
"I won't let ye drown, ye bloody Frenchman!"  
"I'm dead already!" Ludo screamed. "I'm crushed up to my belt! Save yourself!"

Imogen swallowed, but as she was about to turn, she faced Ludo again and pulled out her pistol. "Won't let ye drown, Ludo", she said again with an ash grey face as she aimed the pistol right between his eyes.  
Yet the Frenchman managed to smile, despite the agony he had to be in. "Bless ye."  
"Rest in peace, Ludo", Imogen said through clenched jaws and pulled the trigger. His head flopped to one side, and Imogen didn't lose any more time in grieving. Most likely, she had lost all the time that she practically hadn't had before, anyway.

She managed to get on deck again, ramming another ball into the pistol on her way and stuffing it into her belt as she scrambled up the stairs, but was thrown off her feet as the Albatross tilted again with another jerk that made what was left of the rigging groan in agony. Already, the deck was so far below the level of the frigate's railing that she couldn't get up there anymore, anyway. Yet the Albatross was leaning towards the frigate and gritting her teeth, Imogen stumbled onto her feet again and ran up to the main mast, the last one still upright. With a racing heart, Imogen climbed the mast and silently prayed that they might survive to see the end of the day. _I'm not ready to die yet, lord,_ she prayed. _Please, let me and my boys get back ashore again. _Still gritting her teeth, almost losing her footing as the ship jerked again, she climbed on. Higher...

_...and__ higher.  
__The melody __rising,__ a twirling thunderstorm of black dots winding itself around the lines on the paper. He gritted his teeth in concentration.  
__Higher..._

... and higher.  
And then, suddenly, she saw the Dutch flag a few feet above her, hanging askew as the strings that held her were torn. With a grim and determined face, Imogen climbed the remaining few inches, up to the tip of the mast, and grabbled for the flag.

The ship jerked again, and she almost lost her hold, but with a heartfelt curse, breathing raggedly, she managed to get hold of a corner of the flag. Another tug, and it was hers.

The Albatross jerked again and Imogen locked her arms around the wood of the mast. The ship slowly tilted over some more with another deep groan, and Imogen watched the deck of the frigate come closer, preparing herself to jump.

Three, two, one... "Blast it!!" Her foot had got caught in the rigging!

Imogen rammed the flag into her mouth and pulled out the knife at her belt, slashed at the rope that held her ankle and was suddenly free. It all seemed like the Albatross, her bird of bad luck, was meaning to take Imogen with her into the watery grave, trying to remind her that a captain has to go down with the ship. "Bugger if I will", Imogen muttered, her voice muffled by the cloth between her jaws. Descending down, as she held on to the top of the mast, she took a deep breath, slightly hindered by the flag in her mouth, and jumped.

_His fingers hurt from the strain and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. __Even faster now, a raging maelstrom, darkness of spots whirling on the whiteness of paper like leaves blown by a gush of an autumn storm._

Her boots hit the deck and she fell over, rolled over her shoulder and scrambled onto her feet again, pistol cocked and primed. A shot fell, and Imogen dropped the pistol when a searing pain shot through her hand. She stared down at herself, down her arm, and saw that a stray bullet had grazed the back of her hand. Blood was dripping down her fingers, nothing serious, as such, but it rendered her unable to fight. It was her right hand.

_The last line of raging madness in black and white, filling his consciousness as if there was nothing else anymore, nothing but black dots that screamed at him to master them, to beat them, to best them. And then, suddenly, a string __snapped__ with an agonizing scream of the bow. With the high tension that the strings had, the torn string had the force of a whiplash as it hit __the back of __his hand and the bow fell out of his fingers. Still breathing raggedly, Lucas stared at his __right __hand and the blood that was dripping down his fingers. _

Just as she straightened up again and spat out the Dutch flag to have a clearer view, she saw a man in the uniform of the English soldiers aim a pistol at her, golden tassels adorning his coat. The captain? But before she could even move, she heard the shot and felt the impact that hit her chest and threw her body against the main mast. Someone screamed her name, and Imogen gasped for air, as the impact had knocked the wind out of her.

"Imogen!"It was Niels voice, high pitched with horror at seeing her shot... yet Imogen looked down at herself and, with her left hand, took out the other pistol, aimed it at the stunned soldier and fired. He fell over, a spray of blood sputtering out of the hole in his chest.

Imogen dropped the pistol, still gasping for air, and at that moment Niels reached her side and grabbed her shoulders, staring at her wide eyed and with trembling lips. She looked down at herself again, and at the hole in her leather vest. Then she slowly reached inside and took out the bible she had tucked there, Lucas' bible, the bible he had given her so long ago... to save her soul.

It had saved her life.

The bullet had gone through three quarters of the pages and stopped, she realised as she opened it, at the Apostle John.

_Jesus said to them: The right time for me has not yet come. Any time is right for you._

She looked at Niels with a small, exhausted smile and pushed herself away from the mast. Around them, the fighting had now ceased, as with having watched Imogen shoot the captain, almost all the soldiers had surrendered instantly. Niels did not leave her side as she slowly crossed the deck, and laid a hand on her shoulder as Imogen leaned over the railing where she watched the last remnants of her old life slowly disappear beneath the waves.


	45. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

With the smoke slowly drifting away in the breeze and the smell of powder dispersing, Imogen had another look around on deck where her crew, or what was left of it, had surrounded what was left of the English crew. They made no attempt at resistance whatsoever, yet as Imogen walked up to the group of men, she suddenly registered the smell.

A foul, sinister stench, and as she looked around, she realised that she was standing next to the latch leading below, and the stench was coming from there.

The stench of sickness, of excrements and the sweat of sick and dying men.

There was a plague on board... and therefore had the crew been so decimated and the morale so low that it had taken the pirates hardly anytime at all to overcome a crew of trained soldiers. And with a sinking heart, Imogen then discovered that from the forty-two men she had left Tortuga with a few days ago, only thirteen had survived. With that realisation, Imogen could hardly believe that they had actually won the fight. There were about sixty of them left, the men from the Windhunter and the Albatross together, and more than seventy English soldiers.

They had won against a force that had outnumbered them.

She slowly walked over to the captured men and looked them over. A lot of those faces were pale and gaunt, most likely survivors of the plague. No wonder had they been so easily overcome.

"Who's in charge?"  
No one moved.  
"Is the captain dead?"  
"Aye." One of the men, a man of middle age with brown hair and brown eyes, seemed to have decided to take the responsibility to speak "The captain's dead. You shot him."  
"I see. And you are?"  
"Cobbler. Helmsman."  
Imogen nodded.  
"Are you the Captain?"  
Raising her brows, Imogen stepped a little closer. "Aye. Captain Sparrow. I gather you are the pirate hunter set out to capture me."  
"We had the mission to capture the pirate that has been plaguing the shipping lanes here for months with two ships. A barque and a brigantine. Acquired the name of the Bird of Prey."  
Imogen couldn't hide a small grin even if she felt every bone in her body throb and the loss of her ship like the loss of a limb. Better try and not think about it too much now. "That'd be me."

A murmur went through the men and a few of them exchanged cautious glances. Imogen looked at a few who dared to look at her and kept her face under control. She recognised those glances: Cautious calculation.

"So Captain Sparrow, is it? I thought he was dead." Cobbler slowly crossed his arms.  
"He is", Imogen gave back. "I'm his daughter."

A long silence followed these words, as if it only now became clear to the man that she was a woman. It was probably true. Fighting for your life was not the best time to assess finer facial features of any of your adversaries.

"Captain", Cobbler finally said. "Ye need more men to get the Dusky Hawk into any safe harbour to have her repaired."  
Imogen raised her brows even further. "So?"

Some of the English soldiers shuffled. Some exchanged more cautious glances with one another. And then suddenly, one of them took off his red uniform coat and vest, tied the belt around his shirt again and lifted his arms. "I'm your man, if you want me."  
Imogen crossed her arms and looked at the man with an unmoving face.  
"Or kill me, if you want. I am not afraid of meeting my Lord today."  
"What guarantees that ye won't turn on me the minute I turn my back on you?"  
The man shrugged. "Nothing."  
At this, Imogen had to grin. "Aye. Come ye forth."

With a nod, the man left the ranks of captured soldiers and took a place among her men. They gave him a few uneasy looks but made room for him. Not for the first time something like this had happened.

And after the first man, others followed. Within less than ten minutes, all of the soldiers that had surrendered had also come over to their side. The prospect of leaving the drill and strictness of the navy behind and becoming free men of the sea, even with all the dangers that a life as such brought, had taken care of their reluctance very quickly. And Imogen welcomed them all, if cautiously at first.

"I want to make this clear", she finally said before her men would give them their weapons back. "Ye're not soldiers any more. Ye're not even Englishmen any more, other than ye have happened to be born there. My crew is a mix of escaped slaves, turncoats, and men from all nations. A bunch of cut throats. Pirates. And I am a privateer in service of Curacao. If ye sail for me, ye're sailing for the Dutch flag. I want that understood. Whatever else ye are, ye're men of my crew and ye're sailing under the Dutch flag. Whoever can't handle that, better say so now. For now, I will let ye go in Tortuga. Later, I'll have ye walk the plank if I hear one wrong word."

No one moved.

"Right. Every man who survived the fever will most likely not get it again. Go down below and throw all the bodies out. Rinse everything with seawater, and lots of it. Burn all the canvas in the cots, and sleep rough on the planks for now, I will replace them in Tortuga. And be quick about it. The rest, up into the rigging. We're heading for Tortuga."

Slowly, the men dispersed, a few below, a few into the rigging, and Imogen slowly walked up to the helm, had another look around, and slowly closed her fingers around the spokes. They felt a little unfamiliar, yet a wheel was a wheel. The only thing was that the Dusky Hawk was more than twice as big as the Albatross had been. A frigate of war. And slowly, a smile crept up onto Imogen face, so stealthily that she didn't realise it at first. But when she did, she had to grin.

For as much as the loss of the Albatross, her first ship, caused her grief, she had to admit that with having exchanged the one bird for the other, the bird of bad luck with the bird of prey, she not only had proven true to her own legend, the one Morgan had talked about, but that she had actually made a pretty good deal. She knew of no pirate anywhere in the Caribbean, and no privateer, either, who commanded a frigate.

True enough, neither the Windhunter nor the Dusky Hawk looked very impressive right now, what with having exchanged salvos of chain and grape shot. But once having been in the docks, what could then stop her in anything?

A good thing, truly, that she had not entrusted her fortune of Dutch gulden to anything other than the bag at her belt.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

When finally, one of his spies had only narrowly escaped exposure and had made what haste he could to get back to Curacao in person to relate the message that in Port Royal, men were mustered, the governor finally had the full attention of his council. Right now, after the last meeting, the two of them, he himself and Godfried van Dijk, had remained at the table and were now leaning over the map of Curacao.

"A blessing and a half, truly", van Dijk finally said, very reluctantly, as was clearly written in his expression. "A blessing that the privateer was successful in buying time and getting reinforcements here."  
For diplomatic reasons, Lucas van Huuiten chose not to comment on that. Van Dijk had let no chance pass by to comment on the useless waste of time to have a privateer going to Amsterdam and having brought so many men here. But now, that there was no denying the attack was about to fall on them, the only question remained, when. Resting his eyes on the map of Wilhelmstad, van Huuiten barely nodded. He would not enrage him any further, he was too valuable a source of military tactics to not be on his side._Silence is not always tact, and it is tact that is golden, not silence._ _A wise man who thought that these many years ago, the good bishop Camus__, even if he was a Frenchman_

"Yet I am afraid we will need more officers", van Dijk went on with a thoughtful glance. "We have the two hundred and forty men from Amsterdam, and the hundred and fifty we had. Once we raise the militia, we will have another hundred, but those are untrained men with pikes only. But with the outline of the city, we need to split the forces into smaller units to be able to move and react fast." He shot the governor a look as if he was daring him to contradict.  
"What do you propose?"  
"Recall every man from reserve into service, especially those who have earned their officer's patent."  
Van Huuiten raised his brows. "Do you have the authority and rank to do so?"  
"As an admiral? If not me, who else?"

The men exchanged a long look.

"How long did you serve in the navy before you became a clerk, van Huuiten?"  
The governor crossed his hands behind his back and straightened up. "Four years."  
"Very well." Van Dijk took a deep breath. "What rank did you have?"  
"I rose only to the rank of a captain, van Dijk. Are you worried I might outrank you?"  
Van Dijk opened his mouth in protest, and van Huuiten smiled thinly. "Godfried van Dijk, whatever lies between and behind us, we are all on the same side in this war. If you recall me into service, I will bear the duty. And even with me being the governor of this colony, I have only the rank of a captain and certainly not the experience and knowledge of warfare, tactics and strategy that you have. I need you, van Dijk."

Van Dijk slowly straightened up again and, after looking at van Huuiten for a long while, finally nodded. "I recall you, Lucas van Huuiten, into the military service as a captain of rank which is what you earned. Hopefully, you will be able to keep up." He mustered him for a moment longer.  
"I have been retired, but I have not been idle, van Dijk. I met with the drillmaster of the garrison each morning for weeks now, ever since I learned about the planned attack."  
Van Dijk raised his brows. "You have drilled yourself all along?"  
"This was something I would not be taken unawares or unprepared of", van Huuiten gave back smoothly. "Is it so surprising that as an officer of reserve, I have taken precautions for the day I might be recalled into service? Even while hoping it would never come to pass, I saw it coming and chose to be prepared. I shall not hide in my bedroom while other men die defending my house, van Dijk."  
After a long moment of silence, van Dijk nodded slowly. "Very well", he said again.

Both men leaned over the map again. "The weakest point is the wall here at the northern gate. The terrain here will help the attackers, and I cannot imagine them not coming from there, as well. We'll be sitting as tightly between their jaws as a nut in a nutcracker. Hopefully, we'll have a harder shell than they'll expect."  
Van Huuiten nodded and followed his gaze. "Do you have a plan?"  
Van Dijk looked at him again, and after a long, scrutinizing look, leaned over the map again. "Station men here, here and here. The gates will be the first thing to fall, and if we have the men stand ready there and there, then we might be able to stop them long enough to give reinforcements from here and here time to catch up and finish them off. After that, it's praying that the invading force is not as big as it could be."  
He looked at the governor again and van Huuiten held his gaze. "Whatever you say, Admiral."

Van Dijk smiled and leaned over the map again. "There is no reason to give up hope. Wilhelmstad has a strong defensive position. We can make it, if we manage a cunning plan and a proper execution if it."  
"I do hope we will be able to keep the morale up high enough, Admiral. Things might look bleak when you face a force that outnumbers you, and cunning plans might let you down as they are faced with only simple minds to carry them out. Fear is a strong and very bad advisor."  
"Leave that to me, Governor", van Dijk said and the men exchanged a small smile.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

He could not shake off the grim thoughts about what would happen if their plans failed, their information had been incorrect, or something completely different went wrong. He, Lucas van Huuiten, was no warrior, he was no man of war, his strategies and tactics were the diplomatic ones, attacks, parries and thrusts made of words and fought with a sharpened mind, not made of steel fought with a blade. There had been a reason for him to retire from the navy, but things being as they were, he had taken up yet another duty.

Unable to get this mood off his chest, he wandered aimlessly around the house, now clad again in his uniform, no longer only the governor, but now, again, a military officer. He would lead the defensive force stationed at the harbour, poised ready for either driving back men landing there or being a fast moving troupe to move wherever reinforcements where needed, should the Englishmen not attempt to land directly in the harbour.

A thousand what-ifs coursed through his mind, a thousand things that could go wrong, and he had the feeling that the responsibility for all the lives of all the people in Wilhelmstad and the whole of Curacao was resting on his shoulders alone. And in a way, that was even true. He was the governor of this colony. The welfare of every single citizen was resting in his hands. He had never been so afraid of failure.

"Milord?"  
He stopped his pacing and looked up. "Elysande. I am sorry, did I keep you awake?"  
She shook her head and, despite wearing only a nightshirt and a dressing gown, left the bedroom and walked hesitatingly up to him. "It is long past midnight. You need some sleep to keep your strength and wits together."  
With a heavy sigh, Lucas shook his head. "I know that well, Elysande. But I can find no rest. God has given me a heavy load to carry these days and I find no peace of mind. Sometimes I have the feeling I am not strong enough to bear such a burden." He avoided her eyes.Elysande took another step towards him and pulled her dressing gown closer around her. He could not help but notice the light swelling in her lower belly, and with that, yet another reason more to be worried about a possible failure.

"Milord", she said softly. "Lucas. It is true that you carry a heavy load. Just never forget that only men can put a load on their shoulders too heavy for them."  
Looking up, and into her eyes again, he slowly raised his eyebrows. "So?"  
"To think you are not strong enough to bear your burden is your doing, not God's. God gives no one a load he is not able to bear." She rested a hand against his chest and sighed. "You are but a mortal man. You cannot know the future. All you can do is prepare yourself as best as you can, and do your best. Do not ask yourself to do the duty of seraphim."  
He looked down at her for a long while, and finally, laid his hand upon hers. "And how right you are, my dear. Thank you for reminding me of it."

He followed her then into the bedroom, and while there was little left of the night, he found some rest, at least, thanks to Elysande who had brought his mind back unto the reality of what a man could do. He alone could never save the colony. He could only do his best in defending it, and the rest was up to other men, and finally, God's will. And do his best, he would. As he had always done. As his father had taught him.

_"__Do your duty in all things__, son__. You cannot do more. You should never wish to do less.__"_

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

A few more men had died on their way to Tortuga, but no more men had fallen sick. It was a relief, as Imogen didn't quite fancy carrying a plague to Tortuga. But Tortuga had been her goal for she cared even less for carrying a plague to Curacao.

Despite her money being Dutch, gold was gold, and bought a lot of time in the dock of Tortuga when you were in a hurry. And Imogen had left no doubt whatsoever that she was in a hurry and wanted both her ships repaired as soon as was possible.

She had not only a schedule to keep, which she would now, of course, miss, but she knew by now the reason why she had been sent to Amsterdam, and if there was one thing truly helpful in defending Curacao and Wilhelmstad, then a fully manned and armed frigate would stand on top of the list. Quite a few of the Englishmen had left her in Tortuga, after all, but she had filled the gaps with other men lingering on the piers.

She had made life hell for the master, craftsmen and workers in the docks and when she finally could leave the harbour, heading straight south, she discovered what a frigate was truly capable off when you crossed before the wind with the square rigged ship. They were cruising along with a speed Imogen wasn't used to, with her only being familiar with barque and brigantine. It was elating.

Closing her fingers around the spokes, Imogen grinned into the wind that blew her braid behind her like a banner. She had captured a frigate with an outnumbered force. The Bird of Prey.

She was growing into a legend in her own lifetime. And here she had never even thought that possible, but she remembered Morgan's words from so long ago.

_"You're trying to outlive a legend."_And how interesting it was that when she finally had given up on outliving her father's legend, she had become one in her own rights?

"The Bird of Prey", Imogen muttered with a grin. For a little while, she was torn between cruising back into the shipping lanes to try out her new ship and heading back to Curacao, but finally, she decided that such a senseless display of vanity could wait a wee while longer and she held her course south.

* * *

_Silence is not always tact, and it is tact that is golden, not silence._ Jean Pierre Camus, French Bishop (1582-1652) 

_Duty is the __sublimest__ word in our language. Do your duty in all things. You cannot do more. You should never wish to do less. _Robert E. Lee, US Confederate army general (1807-1870)


	46. Chapter 44

Sorry for the long gap, folks. But we all can spell network troubles, can't we.

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**Chapter 44**

_Madness.__ This is madness._Sometimes, it seemed to Lucas van Huuiten that mankind had only invented war so they wouldn't have to wait for hell until after death but could have it already while still being on earth.

And as he watched the blockade of the harbour fall, he knew that there was no chance of the fight not spreading out in the entire city. Until now, he had nourished dim hopes of being able to spare Wilhelmstad a war raging through its very streets, but as he now watched two of the four ships go up in blazing flames and fall apart into hardly more than shattered cinders, he knew that pretty soon, it was not only the men guarding the northern walls inland but the troupe he was leading who were going to be in the thick of the fighting.

Three frigates had led the onslaught against the blockade that had tried to shield the harbour from the attack, and in that battle, only one had gone down. Two of their own ships were lost, in turn, the third was about to go down, and the fourth one now tried to make its way to shore so her men could disembark and join the fighting. He did not know which ships were lost and what brave captains were to be mourned, but there was much more to come yet. The two remaining English frigates had taken the fort under fire.

He couldn't even pray any more. Reigning in his nervous horse that was prancing under him, he unsheathed his sabre and gave the command for his men to ready themselves when he heard signals being blown from the upper part of the city. The jaws were closing around Wilhelmstad. The English invading force had reached the northern walls.

And they had not been successful in pushing back the attack coming from the sea. With a sinking heart, he watched the two ships exchange salvo upon salvo with the fort, the walls already crumbling in some places.

And then the men behind him jeered and screamed. The defenders had scored; one of the two frigates had not been fast enough and had been hit. A mast fell over, the ship groaned and he could watch the fire spread on board as the burning, shattered ship tilted over slowly, and slowly as well, almost gracefully like a diving swan, disappeared until only the keel remained visible. Yet when he looked back towards the fort again, Lucas could see that one wall was already starting to fall apart. Was there hope left, what with the second ship out of the way?

"Captain van Huuiten..."  
He looked down at the man gripping his stirrup, raised his eyebrows and followed the horrified man's pointing finger out towards the harbour. Another ship had appeared there.  
Another English frigate.  
Staring at the slowly growing set of sails with an unmoving face, he took a deep breath. "All men stand ready."  
"Aye, sir", the man said, his voice sounding rather meek.

Yet it was only a few moments later that Lucas van Huuiten realised that the roaring sound he suddenly heard was not coming from the fort and the frigate but from behind him. Shielding his eyes against the sun he looked up at the upper city and could see, between two larger rows of buildings, a stream of red and white, and he could hear shots, clanging, clashing and screams.

The defenders had lost the walls. The enemy had breached the gates and was inside the city.

And before him, the frigate was nearing the harbour just as the one that was already firing at the fort succeeded in scoring another direct hit and one of the walls collapsed with a thunder, adorned with the screeching of bursting wood and the screams of men.

Having his sabre in one hand and the reins in the other, Lucas had no hand available to cross himself, but he doubted that by now, it could have brought him any comfort any more. With a frozen face he watched the second frigate pull into the harbour, and could his heart have sunken any deeper it would have done so as he saw a brigantine leave the wake of the larger ship and draw in beside her. Carrying more men, beyond doubt.

This day would see the end of Wilhelmstad, of Curacao, of all the soldiers and men trying desperately to defend it. And of him.

"What can we do, Captain?", the man still standing beside his horse asked him and he looked down into the man's despairing face. "Pray", he gave back. "And sell our lives as dearly as possible. The Lord will have a place prepared for all of us who fight unrelenting and with honour to protect what is dear to us."  
The man did not answer and Lucas did not blame him, he wasn't sure he believed his own words. Well, he believed them. But they were no comfort to his heart, cold with the thought about never seeing his wife again nor ever the face of his yet unborn child, never to see his homeland again. Never to see _her_ again. But maybe god would have mercy on him. Maybe one day, he would see them all again in heaven.

The first wave of attackers had reached the harbour and men poured out of the mouth of two alleys like a flooding river of doom. The English soldiers screamed in triumph at seeing the two ships, led by the English frigate, pull into the harbour and hold for the one already attacking the fort.

"Ready your weapons!" Lucas raised his sabre and had to scream on the top of his lungs to make himself heard. "AIM!"  
Within seconds, the men had rearranged themselves in two rows, first one kneeling, second one standing, and had their muskets cocked and primed.  
"FIRE!"  
About a quarter of the English soldiers heading for them fell.  
"READY ARMS!"  
They had time for a second salvo, but then the soldiers were upon them and the two groups of soldiers crashed into each other like two waves of different colours. The world was diminishing. Reduced to clanging, shooting and screams. Reduced to parry, thrust and evade.

Shots fell. Men screamed. And suddenly, his horse reared under him with a horribly human scream and staggered. Acting purely on instinct, Lucas let go of reins and stirrups and pushed his legs out of the saddle as the horse went down under him and managed to get onto his feet again after a not very soft and less than graceful landing. But at least he had managed not to lose his sabre in the process.

At this precise moment, a large group of men reached the harbour from the outlying western shores. They were what was left of the ships that had tried to block the entrance into the harbour, and they had made their way inwards and now joined the fighting, already exhausted from the long run but better than no reinforcements at all. The fight spread out over the whole quay and onto some of the outlying piers and into some alleys, as well.

The thundering of cannons roared behind them and Lucas head flew up as he realised that the screams he heard were a strange mix... of triumph and of despair. He stared across the harbour where the second frigate and the brigantine had cruised in beside the first frigate, flanking her on both sides. Taking _her _under fire!

Obviously, the Captain of the English frigate had not expected the other English ship to turn on them and seemed rendered helpless. The other frigate, and only now did it occur to him that she wasn't flying any colours, and the brigantine, who flew no colours either, both fired a full broadside at the frigate. Aimed low.  
It was almost silent for a second before the English frigate, groaning under the impact of two broadsides, suddenly went up in a blazing, roaring fireball that even at this distance, blew a warm gush into the governor's face. Shards of burning wood were blown a hundred yards up into the air.

And then he saw a Dutch flag being hoisted up on the brigantine, and only then, finally, he recognised her. The Windhunter. And surely, another Dutch flag appeared on the mast of the frigate.

The Windhunter... but where was the Albatross?

All this had taken no more than two minutes, and English and Dutch soldiers alike had been almost frozen while watching the spectacular demise of the English frigate. And only now, as the two ships held directly for the quay, flying the Dutch flag and clearly intending for their men to join the fighting, did the soldiers awake from their trance again, but this time, it was the Dutch soldiers crashing against the attackers and the Englishmen despairing.

Another wave of English soldiers came rushing out of the alleys, but by the sound of it, were followed by the defenders. Had van Dijk succeeded in defending the walls, after all? Clearly, the English soldiers were fleeing, expecting to reach the harbour and relative safety with their ships having secured it. But that wasn't the case. Screaming in fury and despair when they discovered this, the English soldiers threw themselves against the Dutchmen holding the harbour, like cornered animals guided by panic.

Leading the attack again towards the second surge of invaders, Lucas felt a new strength rush through his body as the hope surged up in him that despite the fact things had looked so bleak, they were not lost, not yet, at least.

He heard the men disembark from the two ships behind him as he led his men towards the invading force, but even amidst the fight, for his life, for the city and everything there was to defend, he could not get rid of one single thought: _Where __is__ the Albatross?_

With more men joining in the fighting, the second surge coming from the city towards the harbour was quickly pushed back more and more. Yet even amidst the screaming, clashing madness full of curses and the stink of blood and powder, Lucas could not keep his mind away from the fact that the Windhunter being here without the Albatross could only mean one thing. That she was lost. That _she_ was dead. He did not want to believe it. It could not be!

He and a few other men got cut off from the main battle by a few English soldiers who tried to surround and annihilate them, but after he had killed his second man, Lucas realised that the men were so desperate they were beginning to give up. Summoning all the strength he could muster, he threw himself at yet another enemy and within a few moments more, he and the other seven Dutch defenders around him had killed the few remaining English soldiers that had tried to take them with them into doom.

Exhausted, breathing heavily and bleeding from a cut in his left upper arm, Lucas prepared himself for another onslaught as he heard a third wave of men come running down Harbour Lane, but this time, it were Dutch soldiers who appeared at the end of the alley. He almost staggered with relief.

"Vanquished!"  
He recognised the man running towards him and wiped a few drops of sweat from his forehead, only then realising that he had lost both hat and wig when his horse had gone down. He wiped back a few strands of hair that were plastered with sweat onto his temples, and tried to calm his breathing. "Captain Verhoeven!"  
"Governor!" Adriaan Verhoeven was as out of breath as Lucas himself was. "Vanquished! We have prevailed!"  
Lucas was too exhausted to be so exhilarated. He could barely nod. "How high were the losses at the walls?"  
"High", Verhoeven gave back without hesitation. "But you have to give van Dijk one thing: He knows what to do, and has staunch nerves that he never lost. When the enemy had taken the gate, he told us to hold it, and only when the first surge of attackers had flooded trough the door, we were ordered into dropping the portcullis, thus trapping a third of the invaders between the gates and the reinforcements. I never thought it would be possible."  
"A risky undertaking", van Huuiten gave back. "It could have happened you had not been able to close the gates again.  
"Quite so. Yet they didn't expect it, they thought they had won the gates and thus, didn't push through all at once. They might have thought they had won an easy victory and therefore fell into the trap. Risky. But without it, we'd have lost the walls and the gates for sure."With another nod, Lucas van Huuiten turned around again and let his eyes sweep over the harbour.

The wave of the last attack had carried him and the group of his men quite far away from the centre of the harbour where the fighting had been worst, and he turned around to look at the shattered and collapsed harbour fort, hardly more than a smoking ruin now. They had prevailed, but at what cost? The whole pier was littered with corpses, and the groaning of wounded and dying men turned the silence after the fight into yet another image of hell on earth, aided by the smell of blood and burning. _It is __as __well that war is so terrible_, he thought, _otherwise __we should g__r__o__w far__ too fond of it._

He stopped at the foot of the Lower Market Stairs, a short, if very steep shortcut from the harbour directly to the Market Place. Up there, on the Market place, the lazarettos had been struck up around the church and there, Doctor de Beer and all his assistants and all the volunteers he had mustered were now busy in sewing cut flesh, straightening broken bones and removing crushed and useless limbs. How many men would be left mutilated and crippled after this day? How many families left grieving? Hardly anyone in Wilhelmstad would not have the loss of a friend or relative to grieve about.

And yet, overlaying the pain, loss and grievance was the triumph of having prevailed. But still, he could not suppress the helpless frustration at the thought of whom they owed this to. How many of the men knew had facilitated their victory? True, not the victory itself, but the possibility, the chance for a victory at all. And the one who had bought them this chance was...

No, he refused to believe it. Not before he had spoken to the Captain of the Windhunter and had received proof of it would he believe it.

"Governor?"  
His head snapped up and he spun around, staring at the figure walking towards him, a sabre in one hand, and a pistol in the other.  
"Governor van Huuiten? Are you wounded?"  
He swallowed, trying to get his face under control again. But clutched by exhaustion and panic about the worst loss he could have imagined, he failed. "Captain Sparrow. I must say seldom have I delighted more in your appearing than when you appeared in the harbour today."  
Imogen flashed him a lopsided smile. "I don't doubt that one bit, Governor. I seem to have developed a habit of saving the day for the Dutch Empire."  
"Quite so, Captain Sparrow. And the way you look now, you almost seem to be enjoying this."  
Imogen did not reply and checked the trigger of her pistol.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. "So where is the Albatross, Captain?"

"I exchanged the one bird for the other."  
Van Huuiten blinked in incomprehension.  
"I lost her. For good, this time, for she now rests at the bottom of the ocean, sunk by a pirate hunter stationed in Port Royal."  
Lucas van Huuiten slowly narrowed his eyes, as he had not failed to notice the faintest hint of smugness in her voice. "And... the frigate?"  
Imogen could not hide a grin. "That, governor, is the Dusky Hawk, one of the pirate hunters stationed in Port Royal. Or should I say... formerly stationed in Port Royal?"  
"Impressive. And utterly convenient." The governor smiled thinly at her and Imogen could see that he was as exhausted as she felt. "From now on, I shall forever bless the day that brought you into my service."

Imogen thought of something smart to reply to that when a movement at the edge of her vision caught her attention. A flicker of light, the reflection of sunlight on metal. On the barrel of a weapon...

The governor turned his head and followed her gaze at the same moment the shot fell.

Imogen's world went strangely silent as she watched his head jerk around with a gush of blood bursting from his left temple, and the only sounds she heard was his strained grunt and the clanging of his falling sabre, followed by the sound of his body hitting the cobblestones.

Frozen over with horror, she turned around very slowly and cocked her pistol.

A movement behind a heap of rubble. Someone moving. Someone getting up and running away.

Imogen fired and the man went down with a scream. She had aimed low, and a tiny grim feeling of satisfaction mixed with her frozen terror. She had shot him right in the arse; the ball had hit his left buttock. And only then did it reach her mind that the man was wearing not an English uniform, but a Dutch one. He was writhing in agony but Imogen ignored him, he would run nowhere and be a threat to no one.

She slowly went down to her knees beside the governor and took him by the shoulders, cautiously turning him around. A large puddle of blood had formed under his head, but he was still breathing. Had he not turned his head to follow her gaze, he would have been hit straight in the head, but as it was, the bullet had only grazed his temple. Head wounds had the nasty habit of bleeding awfully. And it was still bleeding.

"Medic?" Imogen looked up and around. "MEDIC!"  
No one in sight. No one within hearing range, even.

Swallowing heavily, she realised she had no other choice. So she pushed one arm under his knees and the other under his shoulders and with a groan and a heavy grunt, managed to get first onto one knee and from there, onto her feet again. She was strong for a woman, trained and muscled from her life as pirate, but she was still only a woman and he was a tall man. Grunting under her load, she still shifted him so his head would rest against her shoulder and not dangle down, and with a heavy huffing breath, Imogen mounted the stairs up to the market place, sweating and gasping for air before she had taken the first twenty steps.

Determination replaced the strength she did not have any more after the descent into the harbour, the manoeuvres to take out the frigate and the following fight. Determination and sheer stubbornness. She was about to fall over when she finally reached the top of the stairs.

* * *

_It is well that war is so terrible, or we should go too fond of it_. Robert E. Lee, US Confederate army general (1807-1870) 


	47. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

The marketplace was a milling, buzzing ant heap. There were tents stricken up in several rows, larger ones for the soldiers, and, she assumed, smaller ones for the worst cases and the officers. She headed randomly for one of those and, luck being with her, from one of those emerged doctor de Beer in person, shirt sleeved and wearing an apron that was already stained with blood.

He saw her approach. "Soldiers over there", he snapped.  
"Doctor!" She could only gasp. "Doctor... de Beer..."  
He spun around again. "Captain Sparrow?" And then he looked at her again and saw she was carrying a man wearing the uniform of an officer. "Holy god..." With a few fast steps, he was at her side and his eyes widened as he recognised the man in her arms which took him a few moments due to all the blood staining his face. He looked at the wound, raised his eyebrows, shook his head, and took a deep breath. "Bring him in there", he said, indicating towards one of the smaller tents. "There is a cot, lay him down; I will be with you very shortly."

Imogen nodded and went inside, found the cot, and carefully settled the governor down. He still had not moved an eyelid nor shown any other sign he was about to regain consciousness. Imogen bit her lower lip as she watched him.

"Great and merciful God", de Beer said after entering again. "That was a near miss if I ever saw one." He bent over the governor and turned his head so he could better look at the wound. "There is a bowl and a cloth on that chair over there. Bring it here and wash his face."  
She did not recognise the friendly, polite doctor she knew, but there was no disobeying that voice. Maybe it was part of the trade; to be able to be obeyed immediately if needs pressed. She fetched the bowl and, swallowing her anxiety, soaked the cloth in water to wipe the blood from his face and left temple. The gash looked horrifying and she could actually see the whitish bone of his skull. Feeling her stomach turn, she hastily looked back at his face again, but that sight was hardly better. The whole left side of his face was swollen and had an eerie, purplish colour.  
"Doctor", she whispered. "What is that?"  
De Beer followed her gaze, lifting his eyes from the instruments he had been preparing. "The blood from the wound has found its way under his flesh, flowing along the skull bone and collecting in the tissues there. Basically, nothing but a bruise. Nothing dangerous, although I admit, nothing pretty to look at." He busied himself with his needles again.

Not pretty to look at was a bit understated, she found. It looked absolutely hideous. Had it not been for the right half of his face which still looked completely normal, she wouldn't have recognised this man as the handsome governor she knew.

"Doctor?"  
Both Imogen and de Beer looked up as a woman entered, carrying more cloths and a small bag.  
"Ah, there you are, Anneke. Did you get everything?"  
"I did", the woman gave back and stepped beside he cot.

Imogen made room for her. Obviously, she was an assistant to the Doctor and thus, far better qualified in doing whatever he needed to do. She took another step back, but when she saw the doctor pick up a razor and lean over the governor's head, she left the tent in what was almost a run. Even though she knew what a ridiculous notion that was, she had no desire to watch anyone mutilate him any further.

**x x x x x x x x**

Not knowing what else to do, Imogen walked back towards the harbour, to see if there was anything she could do to help. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but she would not allow herself the luxury of sitting somewhere while men were dying who could have lived had anyone be there to help them get medical treatment.

Yet all the wounded men in the harbour had been taken care of already. Walking amidst the corpses and discarded weapons, Imogen realised that this was her first battlefield. She had fought many naval battles, true. But usually, the sea took care of the remnants of any such battle very quickly. As opposed to the battles here, where everything, or everyone, remained so long until someone came and took care of it. Or him.

It smelled abhorrently. Spilled guts and blood, burned flesh and powder, and the acrid stench of cold sweat, of fear.

Walking along the quay, keeping an eye out for any wounded man that could be helped, Imogen was so lost in thought that she almost forgot why she was here. Scolding herself for daydreaming, she looked around and felt her heart freeze over again when she saw someone lie on his back, only a few steps away from her. Someone who looked familiar. She hurried over, but slowed down with trembling legs when she recognised him.

"No..." Shaking her head in fruitless denial, Imogen slowly went down onto her knees beside him and felt tears burn in her throat as she looked at the broken blade of a sabre that was protruding from Captain Uettersen's chest. His eyelids fluttered and he groaned softly. A trickle of blood ran out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin.  
"Captain Uettersen?" She touched his hand and surely, he managed to open his eyes.  
"Am I in heaven already?" His voice was no more than a rasping whisper and he coughed, a movement that made him grimace in pain. "Oh, no, I ain't."  
"Captain..." Imogen felt despair wash over her. She had to remind herself to talk Dutch to him. "I will get a medic. Please, hold on."  
"No." She stopped in mid move as she was about to rise and looked at his face again. "No, I'm done for."  
"Captain Uettersen, don't give up, I will..."  
"Please", he rasped. "I've been skewered alive. I've had it. Don't need no medic anymore."

And looking at his face, waxen and pale, and at his chest, Imogen could only admit that he was right. He had a blade in his lungs; it would only be a matter of minutes. She was talking to a dying man. Trying to suppress her tears, Imogen slowly knelt down again.

"Would you stay with me?", he rasped, pink bubbles forming on his lips. "Shouldn't take too long..."  
"I will, Captain." Biting her lower lip, Imogen pulled her shirt sleeve over her hand and wiped it gently across his mouth and chin to clean away the blood.  
He managed another strained smile. "Jan."  
Swallowing her tears, Imogen leaned forward as Uettersen's glassy eyes sought hers.  
"Is there anything I can do for you, Jan?", she asked softly.  
"Don't let them throw me into a hole", he whispered. "Don't want to be... dug away like a worm."It took Imogen a second to realise what he meant, but then she pressed her lips together and nodded. "I promise", she said.

"I lost her... my Wilhelmina", Uettersen rasped and coughed again. "Lost her... couldn't go down with her... had to fight..."  
"I will bring you there." Using her sleeve again, she wiped away a bit more blood and then placed her hand on his cheek. "I promise. I shall bring you there myself."  
Uettersen smiled again and closed his eyes. "May you be... forever blessed." He took a rasping, painful breath. "Oh god, it hurts..."  
Imogen blinked, but to no avail. Resting her hand on his cheek again, she ignored the tears that were coming free from her eyes leaned a little forward. "It will be better soon."  
He smiled weakly. "Aye. Aye, no doubt." He coughed again, and another trickle of blood ran down his chin. Imogen wiped this away, too.

He was so out of breath now as if he had run ten miles and Imogen realised with dread that he was drowning. He was bleeding to death and was drowning in his own blood at the same time.

"Imogen." He gulped for air and grimaced. "Who is the lucky man that holds your heart?"  
She blinked. "What makes ye think there is one?"  
Uettersen twitched his lips into something resembling a smile. "I just... felt there was... I just... maybe I wanted to think... that it wasn't because of... me... but because... of someone else... that you said no..."  
"I..." She was about to deny but realised then that if there was one man on earth whom she could entrust with that secret, then it was him. "Lucas van Huuiten", she whispered and despite his state, his eyes flew open.  
"Oh what a sorry thing", he breathed and swallowed.  
Imogen asked herself how much longer he would have to endure this.

"Imogen", he gasped after a while.  
"What is it, Jan?" She tried to keep her voice calm, but her tears betrayed her.  
He opened his eyes again and shook his head. "Don't you... grieve for an... old fart like me."  
"How couldn't I?", she gave back and blinked another tear away.  
He actually chuckled, but it ended in a hoarse, rasping cough that left him painfully gasping for air. "Imogen..."  
"Jan."  
His eyes found hers again. There was a strange glow in them, a light, something she had seen before in dying men. Something that brought with it the utter peace of the finality that was inevitable. "Could you... kiss my other cheek... before I go?"  
Imogen had to swallow a sob. "Which one is the other?"  
"The... right one..."

Nodding with her lips pressed tightly together, Imogen leaned over him and gently placed a kiss onto his right cheek. He smiled, happily and almost peacefully, despite the pain, or maybe he wasn't feeling the pain any more. But even as she had leant back, her hand still on his other cheek, she leaned forward again and this time, softly kissed his lips.  
He stared at her, his eyes burning with something she could not identify. "Why did... you do... that?"  
Imogen swallowed again, bit her lip and shrugged. But looking at him, she managed to give him a shy and tiny smile. "To comfort the hurting heart of an old and weathered seaman", she whispered, caressing his cheek with her thumb.

And at this, he smiled. He smiled so softly at her that she knew that he was about to take his last breath. He _was_ not feeling any more pain.

"I shall... speak a few choice words... on your behalf... when I'm up... there", he gasped. "I shall." He gulped for air again but had to cough at the same time with a sound that caused Imogen pain even only listening to it, and the blood did not trickle out of his mouth this time, it was a gush.  
"Farewell, my angel", he whispered and coughed again, his breath escaping his chest in a low moan.

Imogen waited for another intake of his breath. It did not come.

She remained where she was, staring at his face, so relaxed and peaceful now, and she did not turn around as behind her, she heard steps approaching.

"Imogen?"  
"He's dead, Niels."  
"I can see zat", the Friesian gave back in a gentle voice and went down into a crouch beside her.  
"I promised him a sailor's grave."  
"He shall have it. We'll bring him onto ze Windhunter."  
"Why did he have to die?" She didn't even care anymore how weak her voice sounded.  
"Because men die in a battle. Good men, bad men. You know zat, Imogen."  
"I didn't want him to die."  
"It was not in your power to prevent it."

Finally, she managed to tear her eyes away from Uettersen's lifeless face and look at her friend. "Why do people die around me like flies?"  
Niels narrowed his eyes and sighed. "Because you are always were the fighting and dying is zickest, where it is ze most dangerous."  
"Why?"He could only shake his head. "Because you are what you are. Ze Bird of Prey, remember?"  
Imogen stared up at him out of desolate eyes. "I'm sick of it. Sick of all the fighting and dying and killing and all... I'm sick of losing my friends and sick of seeing people around me die all the time..." She sobbed. "I'm so tired, Niels..."

Not knowing what to reply, Niels reached for her hands, took them firmly and, ignoring her protest, pulled her up with him onto her feet again.

"Ye need a little shore leave", he said simply. "And a rest."  
"We can't leave him here", Imogen protested as Niels was trying to lead her away.  
"We won't. We come back later and pick him up. And you..."  
Imogen swallowed and wiped her eyes. "I have to see..." She looked at Niels. "I have to see... him. He's been wounded."  
He gave her a long look, as if trying to measure her strength and if she would fall over as soon as he would let go of her, but finally, he did let go of her and nodded. "See me on ze Windhunter any time ye're ready."

Imogen nodded and left him and the body of Captain Uettersen behind, heading for the Marketplace.

Being in the thick of any fight had never bothered her before. Before... before she had actually known what it meant to have some peace.

She had not known anything else in her life than being a pirate, cruising the sea and fighting for her life and her living. She had enjoyed it, and had felt free and untamed, strong and able to stand up for herself.

But never had anyone given her any choice. Her father had not given her a choice about her lifestyle, and neither had her mother. And not knowing anything else, what was there she could do? She had no choice. She could only go on, and the way was straight and mercilessly clear before her.

She had never given peace or safety or the notion, the concept of a home a thought. Not before...

Not before she had known what peace and safety actually meant. Not before her heart had found something resembling a home.

But now that she had... now she would forever, for the rest of her live, carry that feeling in her heart with her. The wish of just once, having another of those small, tranquil moments of peace again that she had felt when Lucas had put his arms around her.


	48. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

It was not before Imogen reached the marketplace again, the sun already low in the sky, that she realised she couldn't just go and visit him. She could not go into that tent and enquire about his welfare, she had simply no rights to just go and check on him. He was the governor, and she just one of the random privateers. She had no business being there.

And then she narrowed her eyes. Or had she?

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Imogen walked over to the tent where she had dropped him off and cautiously peeked inside. The doctor was still there and packing up his instruments.  
Straightening up, she entered. "Doctor?"  
He looked up. "Ah, Captain. I did wonder where you had gone."  
"Seeing if there was anyone in need of help down at the harbour", Imogen gave back, and it was the truth, if only partly. The doctor gave her a long look under lowered lids, but said nothing. Doubtlessly, he was now wondering why she had returned.  
"Is he awake?", she asked then and at that, the doctor looked at the form of the governor, lying covered with a blanket on the cot, and shook his head.  
"No", he replied. "And I would ask you to wait with whatever it is you need to confer with him until he has recovered a bit. He has lost a large amount of blood and..."  
"Doctor, I did not come to confer anything", Imogen said. "I came to tell you, first of all, that he is not yet out of danger. He was not wounded in battle. He was deliberately shot by a man crouching behind a fallen wall."  
"Captain, I might remind you..."  
"A man wearing a Dutch uniform."  
"What?"

Imogen nodded with a grim expression and walked over to the chair in the corner where she removed the bowl and put it on the floor before she sat down. "You heard me right. I saw him, and I had the presence of mind to shoot him when he tried to flee after the attempt of assassinating the governor. He has a bullet in his arse. You might have encountered him."  
"I... I have", the doctor said, obviously completely taken aback. "He is in..."  
"I doubt he will run away", Imogen said and crossed her legs. "But I also doubt he was acting on his own. Someone has an interest in seeing the governor dead, and he bribed a soldier into attempting to kill him. No one would have thought twice about it had he found his death in the attack today."  
The doctor scratched his head with a very worried expression.  
"You take care of your patients, Doctor", Imogen said and leaned back in her chair. "I will stay here and watch."  
The doctor gave her another long stare as he was wiping his hands on a rag, but then he shrugged and walked over to the bowl that he picked up. "I shall find someone to relieve you as soon as possible, Captain. You, too, have done your share of fighting today and doubtlessly, you are exhausted as well."  
"Presently, I do not trust anyone else but me, Doctor", Imogen said and took out one of her pistols to check the load and the trigger. She placed it into her lap. "I'll do."  
"No one but you?" Looking at her, the doctor slowly raised his eyebrows. "And why is that?"  
_Trapped._ Imogen held his gaze, but did not answer. Yet the doctor just looked at her and without moving another muscle in his face, turned around and left the tent, carrying the bowl with the soiled water with him.

Imogen stared after him. Did he suspect something? Or even know? Were her actions so easy to read for everyone, or was it just him? She did not want to dwell any further on that thought and leaned back again, one hand on the pistol in her lap.

The light in the tent began to dim somewhat, yet it did not take too long before one of the women who helped with the wounded men came walking in with a candlestick and a lit the oil lamp that was hanging from one of the tent posts. In the slightly fluttering light that the lamp cast, Imogen allowed herself to look more closely at the governor's face. Apart from the fact that he was very pale he looked perfectly normal, from where she sat, since she was looking at the right side of his face. The tight bandage around his head, however, destroyed the illusion that he was only sleeping.

Already, what with her sitting on a chair in a wind still and thus comparatively warm place, the first yawn crawled up her throat and Imogen shifted in her chair. This was going to be a very long night.

Staring at the pistol in her lap, Imogen tried not to dwell on the images that had taken hold of her memories, the images of the governor being shot and the images of the dying captain. This alone should have been sufficient to keep her awake for several nights in a row, she'd have guessed. But she had to yawn again, from sheer physical exhaustion. She broke off in mid-yawn, however, when she heard a movement from the cot and looked over. A low moan came from his lips and his head fell to one side.

She got up and walked over to him, lowering herself down into a crouch beside the cot. He didn't open his eyes but obviously sensed that there was someone there, as he asked for water in a husky voice.

Imogen looked around and saw, below the cot, a large stone bottle and a wooden cup. Uncorking the bottle, she gave it a sniff and discovered it was indeed water. She poured a cupful and carefully brought her hand under his head, mindful not to touch the left side of his face, and held the cup to his lips.

But it was not before he opened his eyes that she realised how close his face was to her own. Swallowing heavily, she jerked upright and he blinked.

"Im... Captain Sparrow", he muttered, his voice still hoarse. "Where am I? What happened?"  
He followed her with his eye as Imogen sat down on the chair again after picking up the pistol. "In a lazaretto tent. You were shot", she said and crossed her legs again, the pistol resting under her hands.  
"And what are you doing here?"  
"You were shot by a man wearing a Dutch uniform. Which probably means you have an enemy here set out to dispose of you. And since his agent did not succeed today, they might come back and finish you off tonight. There are a lot of people around the place, a constant coming and going. No one would notice one person more going into one random tent or another. No one would notice, amidst all the wounded men, any sound a man makes when he is killed."  
The governor blinked slowly as he turned his head to face her. "So you are here to... guard my life?"  
Imogen did not avoid his eyes. Or rather, his eye, as only the right one would open. "Yes."

"I do not know what I can say", he said after a moment of silence.  
"You'd best say nothing and rest yourself", Imogen said and, after suppressing another yawn, reached into her vest and produced a small bag from which she took a small green leaf. She had acquired them in Tortuga, as an aid for long night shifts at the helm, but if this wasn't a night shift where she couldn't afford to lose her control and fall asleep, she didn't know what was. She rolled the leaf up and stuffed it into her mouth.  
The governor gave her a slightly mistrustful stare. "What is that?"Imogen shot him a glance. "Coca leafs."  
"And... what is it?" He was giving her the same look as then, when she had confronted him with opium."Keeps you awake and alert", she replied and leaned back chewing. "Bought them in Tortuga, they come down south from Terra Firma. Work quite well, too."  
"I heard it is sleep that keeps you awake and alert", the governor replied, not taking his eyes off her.  
Imogen shrugged. "If I am going to let myself fall asleep I might as well not be here."  
"Precisely." He shifted slightly to be able to better look at her. "I have guards employed to do such work, Captain."  
"So you do want me to leave you, find some of your guards that are god knows where and come back to find you lying here with your throat cut? I don't think so." Imogen swallowed and took another leaf. "I'm afraid I'll have to be your guard for tonight, governor."  
"I guess there is no talking you out of this."  
"No."

"Captain", he said after a while.Imogen looked up again.  
"Aye?"  
He managed a smile. "Thank you."  
"It's all right." Imogen felt a corner of her mouth twitch until she realised he was holding out a hand. Hesitatingly, she got up and walked over to the cot where she lowered herself down and took the hand with a racing heart and trembling fingers.  
"Thank you", he said again, still looking at her.  
"I said it's all right."  
"No." He took a deep breath. "I never thanked you for... the gift you have brought me."  
"Oh. That." Imogen avoided his eyes. "I said it wasn't much..."  
"Captain." His voice was very solemn and she looked at him again. "Had you put the world at my feet that day it could not have meant as much to me as what you gave me", he said.

Imogen avoided his eyes. "I... I walked out of Amsterdam one day, out of the south gate. It is a very beautiful country; I have to own you that."He didn't reply, but a slow melancholy smile spread on his lips.  
"I... well..." Imogen licked her lips. "I walked down the road a bit and... was so free as to..." She broke off, utterly embarrassed. But somehow, she had the feeling he would not laugh at her. Why should he? More likely it would make him glad. "I greeted Holland, and I greeted Utrecht, even if it was only from a distance. I brought them your regards."She felt his fingers close more tightly around hers and increased the pressure of her own, in turn, before both of them let go the same instant. She got up, hastily and with weak knees, and took her place on the chair again, the pistol on her thighs.

Into the silence between them, the sounds of the camp around them seemed to come from another world.

Imogen could hear screams and moans of other men in the tents surrounding her. Steps neared and disappeared into the distance. Somewhere, the agonizing wail of a woman suddenly rang out across the nightly camp like the warning of a banshee and Imogen send a silent prayer to god to take care of the soul of whomever that woman had discovered to be lost to her forever. The clock of the church struck eleven.

Silence settled over the camp as the injured men, whomever was not hampered by too much pain, settled down into the uneasy sleep of the wounded.

Close to midnight the doctor came back on his round to check on the wounded men. He did not speak a word to Imogen who still sat silently in the corner with the pistol on her knees and instead leaned over the governor to check his breathing and his pulse.  
The governor shifted. "Doctor?"  
"Governor van Huuiten. I and Captain Verhoeven have found the man who tried to kill you, in order to speak to him, to maybe find out whom he was working for."  
"So?"

Imogen straightened up again as she caught a glimpse of the doctor's expression.

"He is dead. Someone slit his throat, governor. Not much more than minutes before we sought him out, for he was still warm."

Both men lifted their gaze towards Imogen who did not move a muscle in her face as she popped another coca leaf into her mouth and checked her pistol again. She did not mind being proven right, sometimes. But hell, sometimes she wished she wasn't.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

For the rest of the night, the hours dragged along as sluggishly as cold syrup, and nothing more happened. Two times, Imogen thought she could hear steps coming for the tent and disappearing again, but she was never able to tell if whoever it might be was really heading for this tent or just randomly coming into this direction.

Sunrise (and doctor de Beer with a man wearing a uniform in attendance) found Imogen stiff and lightheaded, almost unable to get out of the chair. She had not moved at all for the whole night, apart from the one moment when the governor had asked her for a bucket and a few minutes of privacy.

She stretched and yawned and all in all, felt as miserable as she could imagine, but at least she could take comfort in the fact that her vigil had not been in vain. For she was sure that whoever had killed the soldier would have also tried to kill the governor, and had been prevented by her presence.

Surprisingly enough, the governor sat up as well when the doctor checked on him and declared himself if not recovered, then at least well enough to leave the lazaretto and head back for his own residence.

Captain Verhoeven, captain of the city guards, for he was the man accompanying the doctor, declared himself willing to guard the governor's way and also, keep an eye on him for the near future, together with a few of his trusted men. Imogen did not want to agree, at first, but she held her tongue as she couldn't possibly distrust everyone so openly, especially someone whom the governor seemed to trust. And by and all, Verhoeven was a simple and honest soldier who had risen in the ranks through merit, not birth, and seemed trustworthy enough.

So she left them, after both governor and doctor had thanked her again, and headed back for the harbour, light in the head but every limp as heavy and stiff as waterlogged driftwood. But as she passed a house that had a small garden behind the fence flanking it off from the main road, she walked over and knocked.

A woman opened, a small child on her arms. "Yes?"  
"I wish to buy one of the tulips", Imogen said, indicating to the small flowerbed. "I have to bury a friend."  
The woman's eyes went soft. "Take it, and may god rest your friend's soul in peace", she said. "I do not want anything for it."

Imogen managed a smile and broke off one tulip, a dark orange one, and with a nod, the woman closed the door again and Imogen clutched the flower to her heart on her way down.

Standing on the deck of the Windhunter, Niels saw her coming down Harbour Road and left the ship to meet her. Uettersen's body was already on board, he told her, the men of his crew that had survived the sinking of his ship and the following battle had asked permission to join them for the funeral and were on board, as well. Wordlessly, Imogen followed him on board and sat down on a coil of rope at the bow as the Windhunter left the harbour with its sad freight and mission.

Once they had left the harbour and had reached open waters they brought Uettersen, already wrapped and sewn into canvass with a cannonball at his feet, up on deck and his crew gathered round him one last time to say farewell to their captain. Imogen was a little surprised that some of them, the elder ones especially, were not ashamed to show their tears. Most likely, they had been sailing under him for decades.

One of them, his first mate, as it turned out, stepped forward and made a little speech, but he was not a man of many words, as opposed to his late captain.

Into the uncomfortable silence that followed his awkward words of farewell, Imogen stood up and stepped forward as the men lifted the body onto a large board.

"I didn't know you well, Jan-Peter Uettersen", she said. "But by god, I wish I had. Maybe I should have said yes. I could have done worse than living with a man who adored me. But it's too late for that now. Rest in peace, my friend." She nodded and the men lifted the board, carried it over to the railing and slowly tilted it so the body slid off and landed in the waters where it vanished within seconds.

Imogen followed the men and went down onto her knees as the body fell, took her cross between her fingers and rested her folded hands on the railing. Bowing her head over her hands, she prayed the paternoster and behind her, every man bowed his head to join her, and the prayer of the lord rang out on the Windhunter in a strange mix of Latin and at least five or six other languages as each man prayed in his own tongue for Captain Uettersen's soul.

Imogen slowly laboured onto her feet a while after the prayer had ended and leaned over the railing to drop the tulip. "Rest in peace", she said again and turned away, not caring who might see her tears or think it strange that she should shed them for a man she had hardly known. Sitting down on the coil at the bow again she clasped her hands between her knees and stared straight ahead, taking some small comfort in the fact that she had fulfilled her promise to the dying captain.

The wind dried her tears. And then a tiny smile crept onto her face.

For if anyone would be able to speak "a few choice words on her behalf" to the Lord himself, she thought, then surely it was Kapiteen Jan-Peter Uettersen.


	49. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

After only half the way to his house, Lucas had to admit he had been a bit hasty to leave his sickbed so soon. Yet on the other hand, he would recover far more speedily when he was at home, in a proper bed, without the disruptions of screams and moans... or the notion of having his throat cut the minute he went to sleep. For this might be a bit harder to achieve in a second storey bedroom with closed windows and soldiers guarding the doors.

He had not been aware that it was so far from the marketplace to his residence. He had hardly left the tent, as it seemed to him, that he already had to lean on the captain for support, and not long afterwards, he felt his knees give way under him and his vision dwindled at the edges.  
He was not aware of the fact that from beyond this point, two soldiers carried him between them on a trencher that Verhoeven had one of his men fetch from the camp moments before the governor had collapsed on him.

The first thing his mind registered when his senses returned to him was that he was in a bed and someone was gently wiping his face with a cool and moist cloth. He laboriously opened his eyes and looked into Elysande's worried, tear-stained face. His left eye still would not open.

"My poor love", she whispered. "What have they done to you... oh god, what have they done to you..."  
"Elysande", he said, realising his voice sounded weak and strained. "Believe me, it most likely looks worse than it is."  
She swallowed and put the cloth aside. "Have you looked at yourself yet?", she asked with a trembling voice.  
Lucas shook his head, albeit cautiously, as this movement caused his world to spin and his head to hurt viciously. "Why? There is a bruise around my eye, yes..."  
"Around your eye?" She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "You look like a horse had stepped into your face, milord."

He stared at her for a while and then took a deep breath. "Help me up." He reached for her hand, and though she protested at first, in the end she took his hands and helped him to sit upright.  
"Be cautious, milord. Do not overstrain yourself..."  
"All I want is a mirror, Elysande."Elysande shook her head again and wrenched her hands, but when he insisted, she got up and fetched the small mirror that sat on the table next to his shaving gear.

Even expecting something really, really bad, the face that looked at him from the mirror gave him a start what with half of his face a bruise and the shorn hair. "Heavens... I look like a savage..."

It looked, for all that's worth, like two faces welded into one. Not taking his eyes of the mirror held by Elysande, he slowly turned his head to the left, looking at the right side of his face. It looked perfectly normal, his own, as people used to say, handsome face, under whitish-blonde, carefully cropped hair. He turned his head and looked at the left side, swollen from forehead to chin, including the lips, which distorted his mouth into a faint sneer, and the colours ranged from deep purple over dark red to a greenish shade of blue. The eye was almost completely swollen shut, and together with the shorn hair on the left side of his head made the other half of his face almost look like the one of an angel next to the one of a demon.

Elysande swallowed again and hurriedly took the mirror away.

"Please", she whispered as she sat down onto the bed beside him again. "Please, do not despair. To me, you are still the man you were before the battle."  
He slowly turned his head to look at her. "I do not feel the same."  
"Give it time to heal, milord. It may yet look a lot better, given time. But even if it won't..."  
"Even if it won't, then there is nothing we can do about it", he said and let his upper body sink back, cautiously lowering his head onto the pillow.  
"No", Elysande whispered and leaned over him. "And it matters not. You diligently and unrelentingly fought in the battle defending this city and this colony, for the cause you believed in, and for that, I shall love and honour you all the more. Rest yourself now, I shall watch over your sleep and be with you should you require anything." Then she gently kissed his lips and leaned back again, ran her hands over his eyes to close them and took his hand in hers.  
"You are an angel, Elysande", Lucas whispered and let the exhaustion he had been fighting claim him, holding on to her hand as he slowly drifted away into a deep and heavy, dreamless sleep.

**x ****x ****x**** x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Heeding Niels' advice about shore leave and rest, Imogen had not left Curacao after Uettersen's funeral but booked herself into the best inn Wilhelmstad had to offer, _Wilhelm__s__G__ulden_, and spent a small yet significant part of her fortune to have herself pampered for a few days, sleeping in a comfortable bed, having breakfast brought up to her room, having a hot bath each day, and did not much in between apart from sit on a bench in the back garden of the inn, either doing nothing apart from watching the birds, or occasionally, reading her new bible she had acquired. She had left Lucas' bible as it was, bullet and all, and meant to leave it as it was forever.

Slowly, she felt some strength return to her.

It was a week after the battle, and Imogen was just relaxing in a tub filled with warm water, when the chambermaid knocked and asked if she would receive a messenger.  
"Who is the messenger from?", Imogen asked without looking over her shoulder.  
"He did not say. Yet I..."  
"Captain", a male voice sounded out behind the maid. "I come from Governor van Huuiten who asks you to call on him whenever it is convenient. Meaning, at once."  
"You can't..." the maid protested, but by the sound of it, he pushed the maid aside. How rude could any soldier be? She was having a bath, for god's sake!  
"You better hurry, Captain", the soldier said behind her. "The governor does not like to be kept waiting."

With a sigh, Imogen leaned forward to dunk her face into the water. This, of course, exposed her back to the man behind her and she heard the sharp intake of his breath at the sight of the scars criss-crossing her skin. Straightening up again, she wiped the water out of her eyes.  
"Very well", she said and stood up, reached for the towel and wrapped it round herself when at that moment, the door slammed shut behind her. Imogen slowly turned around and grinned. The man had probably just been sent to fetch Captain Sparrow, and no one had told him that she was a woman. She almost chuckled as she stepped out of the tub.

Braiding her still more than slightly moist hair, Imogen descended down the stairs into the taproom some time later to see three soldiers waiting there in a corner, two of them only very inaptly hiding feisty grins, and a third one with a stony face and still somewhat glowing cheeks. Imogen felt a twang of pity for him and did not move a muscle in her face as she walked up to the soldiers. "I am ready", she said. Flanked by two soldiers and following the third, the embarrassed one, Imogen headed for the governor's residence and wondered why three men had been sent to get her. She asked one of the men beside her why this was the case.

"Guard of honour", he said.  
"What for?"  
The other man looked over. "For saving Wilhelmstad, and his life afterwards, I gather. The name of Captain Sparrow is heard in every inn and tavern these last few days. And at a lot of market stalls and in a lot of shops, as well."  
Imogen nodded thoughtfully and kept her eyes on the stiff back of the officer walking some five or six yards before them.

"He from Amsterdam?"  
"Aye", one said. "Why do ye ask?"  
"Because no one had told him I'm not a man. Did ye think he knew already?"  
Both men tried to hide a snicker or a grin. Imogen looked from left to right and saw they were desperately trying to keep their faces under control.  
She grinned. "Did ye make a bet if he would or no?"  
One of the men gave her a cautious glance, but seeing her grin, he grinned, as well. "Oh, aye. He's such a snob nosed bastard, the captain, and we thought we show him something of the world, ye know."

Still grinning, Imogen and the men walked the rest of the way in silence.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

When they reached the governor's residence, however, the soldiers did not lead her towards the governor's office but turned right instead of left after entering, walking down a corridor similar to the one that had his office at the end. Yet the doors that were opened by two lackeys as she approached led into a large room without any furniture, but with a larger than life portrait of a man with long, curly hair and a vey noble stance, mounted on the wall opposite the door and dominating the view of the whole room upon entering.

Below that portrait, a group of six men were gathered and two rows of soldiers flanked the walls on each side. Acting purely on instinct, Imogen removed her hat as she entered and the group of six gentlemen, the governor among them, turned around and straightened up as she approached.

After she had entered, the soldiers left the room and flanked the walls of the corridor outside. The doors closed, and Imogen swept her eyes across the faces of the six noblemen and asked herself what the hell this was all about. Keeping a straight face, she neared the group of men and halted some ten steps away from them.

"Governor van Huuiten", she said and bowed, sweeping her hat outward in a graceful gesture before straightening up again. "You have summoned me."  
"Indeed I have, Captain Sparrow, and thank you for attending so quickly." He smiled at her, his usual polite, official smile and even though doctor de Beer had told Imogen that it wasn't serious, she still felt somewhat relieved to find his face almost looking normal again. The swelling was gone, albeit the face was still somewhat colourful in all those shades of green and purple that an old bruise has. But now, wearing a wig that hid his shorn hair and otherwise seeming quite recovered again, he only looked as if he had been in a brawl, a notion that almost made her smile.

"Captain Sparrow", the governor said then, and Imogen only now Imogen realised, and found it the slightest bit confusing, that he was talking in Dutch, all of a sudden. So far, they had only ever conversed in English. "Please be so kind as to give a report on how you came into the possession of an English frigate."

Imogen nodded and with an unmoving face, related the whole story, from the warning she had been given, the battle she had fought to capture the Dusky Hawk up to the moment when she had left Tortuga for Curacao again. Her stock of words was not as big as she would have liked, but otherwise she was perfectly fluent in that language now and never had to hesitate.

"You know the rest, I suppose", she ended. "I was lucky enough to arrive in Wilhelmstad in the nick of time to aid the defenders into driving back the English force."

The men exchanged some silent glances and nods.

"Captain Sparrow." Admiral van Dijk stepped forward now, wearing a uniform of which the whole chest was adorned with smaller and larger orders. "With all respect, but are you not English yourself?"  
Imogen did not falter under his gaze. "I was born in Tortuga", she said. "You all know who my father is. I was born the daughter of a pirate and a whore, and if I am English or if I am not does little to change the fact that I spent my whole life, so far, fighting against the English navy. Or rather, trying to flee and fighting when I did not have a choice any more. Why do you ask?"  
"Because we all wondered where your true loyalties lie", van Dijk gave back and Imogen resisted the urge to exchange a glance with the governor. They had been through all this before, and she could well guess that he had attempted to relate this to his council, or what or who ever these men were. And most likely, he had not been successful.  
"Ask yourself, Admiral van Dijk", Imogen said, still holding his scrutinizing gaze. "Where do you think might my true loyalties lie? With those who have hunted me all my life and would hang me as soon as they get their hands on me, or with those who offered me a place in their ranks, and their flag, and speak my name with honour?"

Van Dijk crossed his hands behind his back and smiled thinly. "So you will willingly serve the Dutch Empire and the name of Wilhelm III van Nassauen-Oranje further on?"  
Suddenly sensing that there was more to this questioning than getting a story out of her, Imogen slowly thrust out her chin and took a deep breath. "I have so far", she said with a firm voice. "And I will continue doing so. To the world, I was a nobody or a nuisance all my life before I accepted Governor van Huuiten's letter of marque. Since then, my life has only improved, as I have earned acceptance, honour and a rank. I see no reason to go back to where I was."

Van Dijk nodded slowly and stepped back, looking at the governor again who stepped forth in turn, a rolled up document in his hand.

"Captain Imogen Sparrow", he said, and Imogen straightened up even more at the official sounding use of her name. "After conferring with my councillors, I have decided to use the authority, given to me by our most beloved and honoured Stadholder Wilhelm III van Nassauen-Oranje, to grant you, as a reward for your merit in saving Curacao and Wilhelmstad from falling into the hands of the enemy, the privilege of honorary citizenship of the Dutch Empire. Do you accept?"  
This took Imogen completely unawares and she stared at the smiling governor for a few seconds before she closed her mouth again. "You are offering me..."  
"The Dutch citizenship, Captain."  
Imogen took a deep breath and slowly, reached for the document the governor was offering to her. "I am honoured", she said, her voice almost faltering as she closed her fingers around it. "I... I do not know what to say." She swallowed and tried to summon her face under control again. "I am honoured. Thank you." She looked at the document and back at the governor again who extended a hand and smiled, a smile that communicated slightly more emotion than his usual polite, diplomatic smile of business. She took the offered hand and shook it.

"If you wish to do so...", the governor said then, "...you can choose a Dutch name to be added to yours, and we will add it to the document, Captain."  
Imogen smiled shyly. "I already have, Governor", she said.  
He cocked one eyebrow.

After she had been in the colony of Curacao for so long, she knew that the vast majority of its inhabitants were catholic, mostly emigrated from the homeland after the republic had turned protestant, either afraid of prosecution or simply following the urge to live somewhere where their religion was still the leading one, as in the colony, the churches and the government was still catholic. And thus she knew that making this public, she could only increase the respect these people already seemed to have for her.

"I chose it a while ago", Imogen went on. "When I received God's grace trough Father Aloysius' hand giving me the holy baptism of the one true faith."  
The governor took a deep breath and she could see he had to employ some force to keep his lips straight and his eyes cool. He seemed to want to grin, yet of course, he didn't. "I admit curiosity, Captain."  
"Magdalena", Imogen said. "After her whom Jesus saved from the demons and from sin. Imogen Magdalena Sparrow."  
The governor blinked twice before nodding slowly. "I will have this added to the document you carry, Captain", he said after a while.

Then he stepped back and the other five men of his council stepped forth in turn to congratulate her and, she had the feeling, welcoming her. Welcoming her into their nation. And after some toasts, the drinks having been brought in by servants, Imogen left the governor's residence later that day, glowing with pride and close to tears.

Glowing with pride because they had made her one of their own.And close to tears because she knew that had this only happened earlier, then maybe... maybe she could have kept the man she loved.

But as it was, all she could do was endure his presence in the knowledge that he was not hers, anymore. It would not have been as bad, she had been in that state before, but after she had been his, for a tiny while... it was almost unbearable, sometimes.

Sometimes, she dreamed about just kissing him again, just... making him take her again on his desk in his office. But she had sworn never to tempt him.

If only someone else could ensure that she was not constantly tempted, in return.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

When Lucas went to his bedroom late that evening, Elysande was still awake and looking out of the window. She turned around with a smile as he entered and he looked at her, her hair undone, her cheeks slightly flushed, and asked himself what she might have been thinking. Smiling himself at her appearance, for truly, she seemed to be blooming with her advancing pregnancy, he walked up to her and took her hand to kiss it."And how are you today, my dear? I am sorry I did not see you anymore since breakfast, but I had..."  
"Pressing affairs of state, milord. I know you are a man with many duties. I know this, and I do not hold it against you. I shall bide my time until you have time for me."  
He sighed. "I admit I do have a bad conscience now and then for having so little time for you."  
"And do I not prefer it so in times like these? I would rather not see you at all in weeks than see the city overrun by enemies and being taken hostage. And widowed."  
"As of now, times will get better, I promise you that, Elysande." He smiled at her and brought her hands to his lips again. As he let go of her hands, however, she turned around again and, pressing both her hands on her swelling belly, looked out of the window again.

"Elysande? Is something wrong?"  
She shook her head. "No, no milord, I am..."  
"Please. Tell me the truth." He gently took her by the shoulders and turned her, stepping around her the same time so he could look at her.  
Elysande avoided his eyes. "It is just... sometimes I... I could almost make myself believe that..." She broke off and ran a hand across her mouth and chin.  
"That what, Elysande?"  
Her voice was hardly audible. "That you would indeed love me, milord."  
Lucas opened his mouth but then discovered he did not know what to say.

Yet Elysande looked up at him and smiled sadly. "Who is she?"  
Abashed, Lucas leaned back and swallowed. "Elysande, there is no..."  
She placed a hand on his chest, still smiling sadly. "Do you not think a woman knows when a man's heart s anywhere but with her?"  
"But that does not mean that I..."  
"Surely not. I doubt that you are the kind of man to keep a mistress." She searched his eyes and Lucas held her gaze.

"I swear there is none, Elysande. You are worth far more than being betrayed and humiliated like that."  
"Worth more than she is?"  
"Elysande, there is..."  
She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "No other woman in your heart? Look into my eyes, Lucas, and tell me that your heart belongs to you alone."

He looked into her eyes, swallowing heavily.

"I... I cannot", he finally said. "But I swear, I have given her up before we married."  
Elysande's voice held neither scorn nor accusation. "I have never asked for your heart. I know that it is not mine to ask for, as little as it is yours to give."  
Lucas could only shake his head. "I am sorry."  
"No", she replied softly. "Do not be. If anyone could be sorry, then it is me alone. I made you part from her."  
"And that was not your fault, either. I'd dare say that no one can really be blamed for it." He swallowed again and with a heavy sigh, placed a hand on Elysande's cheek. "I have given you an oath, Elysande. Before god and mankind, and I do not intend to break it."  
She blinked a few times. "And I thank you for it. Kindness is in our power, yet fondness is not. I do not blame you."  
"Do never doubt that I am fond of you, Elysande", Lucas replied in a whisper. "I am. I am very fond of you, with your beauty, your fine and sophisticated mind, your music and... you being the mother of my child. I am very fond of you. I know it is not enough. It will never be enough." He kissed her fingers again and went on before she could say anything. "I could even say that I love you, and it would not even be a lie. Yet I know that I cannot love you the way you want me to."

Elysande silently looked at him for a while, yet Lucas held her gaze as he had spoken nothing but the truth. And she, on her part, seemed to decide that he had, after a while, and smiled again, sadly, as before. "Did she give you up willingly?"  
"She did, as I told her I could not have... an adulterous affair. She told me..." He broke off and shook his head. "Why do you want to know these things?"  
Elysande shrugged. "Maybe because I am not sure if I should envy or pity her. For I have what she cannot have, and that is you. But she has what I can never have, and that is your heart. I cannot say which is worse."  
He sighed. "She told me she would wait for me for the last of all days to be with me again. And she swore never to tempt me."  
"She must be a queen of a woman if she said so, and holds true to her word, to boot." Elysande searched his eyes again.Lucas did not reply.

"I would have you be happy, Lucas", she whispered after a while.  
He looked at her, a bitter little smile on his lips. "And take myself a mistress, after all? I told you that you are worth more than to be betrayed and humiliated, having a mistress between you and your husband and the house full of bastards your man sired on another woman. And she is worth more than to be an evil, defiling secret and..." He shook his head. "No. It was not meant to be, Elysande."

This time, it was her who did not answer and just silently looked at him.

He sighed heavily again. "By god, sometimes I can find no rest just because I am afraid of my failure. I swore to hold my oath, but... I do not have to have her anywhere near me to be tempted. I ask your forgiveness, Elysande, my kindest of women. I am tempted, and sometimes I am afraid my soul is doomed beyond anyone to save it."

After looking at him for a long time, Elysande finally shook her head. "No, milord. Do not think yourself doomed. Have you not withstood the temptation so far?" She smiled gently and took both his hands in hers. "The devil only tempts souls who are in a state of grace, or about to redeem sin."

Lucas could only stare at her, yet she still smiled.

"The others are his already", she whispered. "He has no need to tempt them."

* * *

_Kindness is in our power, but fondness is not._ Benjamin Jenks (1647-1724) 

_The devil only tempts those souls that wish to abandon sin and those that are in a state of grace. The others belong to him; he has no need to tempt them._ Jean-Baptiste Marie Vianney (1786-1859)


	50. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

Niels shook his head in what was clearly admiration. "Now if zat's not an achievement, I don't know what is, Imogen."  
Storing the document away in her desk, large and comfortable as the cabin it was in, Imogen grinned at him and shut the drawer again. "Felt strange, though."  
"In what way?"  
Imogen shrugged. "I can't really say, Niels. Just... the feeling of being admitted into their ranks, of having been allowed to become one of them.  
"To belong", Niels said softly with a knowing smile.  
Imogen returned the smile and shrugged. "I guess so."

They left the cabin together and went back on deck where the crew of the Dusky Hawk was already preparing the rigging. Imogen meant to leave with the evening tide and the sun was already low. Yet as she walked with Niels towards the gangplank as he was heading back onto the Windhunter, she noticed a group of men standing uneasily at the pier, watching her ship.

She had a closer look. They were Captain Uettersen's men.

After exchanging a short glance with Niels, Imogen walked down the plank as well and looked them over. They, in turn, looked at her, uneasily, uncomfortably and suddenly, it dawned on Imogen what they were here for. She slowly stepped aside and extended her arm up the gangplank.

"Welcome aboard", she said very pointedly in Dutch and inclined her head a bit.

After a few seconds of more uneasy staring, the men slowly got into motion and Imogen counted fifteen of them, including the first mate who took the rear.

"Thank you", he said, stopping before her. "We've lost everything."  
"I take care of my men. Don't worry."  
"Thank you. Some of us have families here..."  
Imogen nodded in understanding. "I shall be here regularly, as often as duty calls for it. What is your name?"  
"Schillebeeck. Frans Schillebeeck."  
"Welcome aboard, Frans Schillebeeck. To you and your men. How long have you been Captain Uettersen's first mate?"  
"Fourteen years, Captain."  
"I shall need a new first mate, Frans Schillebeeck. I lost mine when we captured the frigate."  
He blinked twice. "I am honoured, Captain. You don't even know me."  
"No." Imogen smiled and tried to push the sad reminder of Doyle's death out of her mind. "But I gather Uettersen wouldn't have put up with an incapable first mate for so long."  
Schillebeeck rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and grinned a little sheepishly. Imogen shrugged and grinned, and her new first mate followed her on board.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

The attack on Curacao had fallen on the twenty second of July, and Imogen set sail two weeks later, somewhat recovered, but still tired, a tiredness that sleep didn't seem to be able to cure.

At the seventeenth of August, Imogen docked in Tortuga again and told her crew to celebrate her birthday. She watched the men disperse, but as she turned around, she saw that eight of her men, all of them from the former crew of the Albatross, had not left the ship.

"Aye?"  
"We wondered...", one of the men began, an Irishman called McShane. "What you were doing at yer birthday, Capt'n."  
"What should I be doing, McShane?"  
He shrugged and exchanged a glance with the man next to him. "Surely ye don't mean to stay alone on yer ship?"  
"And what's it to you?", Imogen asked, a little touched by his concern.  
"A shame, that's what it is", McShane replied.  
Imogen slowly crossed her arms, with a faint smile spreading on her lips. "And what are ye going to do about it, McShane?"  
The Irishman grinned. "Stay on board. Or go with ye. You decide, Capt'n."  
"Am I given a choice if I want company or no?"  
His grin broadened. "No. Not on yer birthday, ye won't."  
Imogen dropped her arms. "Bastards." But then she had to laugh. "All right. Let's hit the Drunken Rat."

With the men in her wake, Imogen left the Dusky Hawk only to run into Niels and Mick at the bottom of the plank."Captain", Niels said. "We were wondering..."  
"What I'd be doing on my birthday?"  
Niels registered the men, her mood, and the fact that she was leaving her ship, and grinned. "Mind if we join ye?"  
"Not at all."  
And so, with ten men of her old crew in attendance, Imogen strode through the streets of Tortuga, heading for the Drunken Rat, and somehow, felt strangely elated. For as if in an unspoken agreement, the men followed and flanked her, not so much as if they meant to protect her. They did it much the same way as the three soldiers had who had introduced themselves as a guard of honour.

Shaking her head, Imogen made her way, followed by men who not only would guard her honour, her way or her physical welfare should anyone be crazy enough to wish to harm her, but also men who would quite happily get seriously drunk with her on her birthday and, if needs would be, happily carry her back on board if she chose to get drunk enough.

The outline of a man, disappearing between two alleys, looked familiar, from long-legged stance to erect back and blonde pig-tail under the black leather hat. She sincerely hoped he was not heading for the same direction as she was.

"Niels", she said, draping an arm around his shoulders although it meant she had to walk on tip-toe for a while.  
"Aye?"  
"Don't let anyone flutter his eyes at me when I'm drunk, savvy?"  
He shot her a cautious glance. "If ye say so."  
"Definitely."  
Niels grinned and shook his head. "Don't ye zink it's time to..."  
"No."  
They exchanged a long glance.  
"No, Niels. That time will never come."  
"I see", her friend said slowly and Imogen could indeed see understanding dawn in his blue eyes.

Hopefully, Henk was a smart guy and would leave her alone. She would hate to watch Niels break his nose. Although... the notion of Niels being the defender of her virtue made her grin.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

It was long past midnight and Imogen was staggering with drunkenness but still able to walk on her own, if not alone, when they made their way back towards the ships, singing a rather bawdy song that Mick had been teaching them.

"Caress ze soft, pink petals..."  
Niels grinned and Imogen cackled.  
"Of the noble rose so white..."  
Mick had actually a nice singing voice.  
"But with cheeks so firm and gentle..."  
McShane hadn't.  
Imogen tried to piece together the lyrics that seemed a little elusive in her rum-soaked brain. "In the apple I shall bite!" She screeched and cackled again as she bumped into Niels and sent the both of them sprawling onto the cobblestones. It took them a while to get up.

"Celebrate, Tortuga!", Imogen yelled as she had managed to get onto her feet again. "Celebrate my twenty-fourth birthday!"  
"Shut up, ye drunken lousy bitch!", someone yelled out of a window.  
"Celebrate!" Imogen cackled again and above her, someone opened a window and emptied a chamber pot, missing her only narrowly.  
"Haahaa!" Imogen hollered. "Missed me!" Then she staggered on, followed and flanked by laughing men almost as drunk as she herself was. It took them ages to get down to the pier where their ships were docked.

The long walk had taken care of the worst fogginess. Someone was walking up and down at the bottom of the Windhunter's gangplank, Imogen realised. Someone... with a wooden leg.

"Jack!" She hastened her steps, no way she could possibly run in that state, but he hurried towards her and she fell into his arm with a screech.  
"Bugger, Imogen, am I glad I chose to stay a wee while longer to see if ye wouldn't show up, after all." He sniffed. "Are ye drunk?"  
"Awfully. How did ye know I was here?"  
"I saw yer new ship, luv. Where's the Albatross?"  
Imogen tried to straighten up and blinked twice. "Lost her."  
"What?"  
"Lost her, daddy. She was sunk by the pirate hunter."  
He stared at her in utter incomprehension. "But... but if ye have met the pirate hunter and yer ship's gone..."  
Imogen thrust out her chin and grinned, a goal easily achieved in her state of drunkenness. "I... happened to commandeer me... a replacement."  
"So?" Jack cautiously grinned again. "Where?"  
Imogen took his elbow and slowly turned him around so he looked at the frigate docked beside the Windhunter.

"There", Imogen said with pride and a burp. "May I introduce ye to me new ship, Jack? The Dusky Hawk. Former..." She giggled. "Former pirate hunter."  
Jack stared at the large and imposing frigate for at least twenty seconds with his mouth agape.  
"What d'ya think?" Imogen asked, arms akimbo and reeling to keep her balance.  
"She's..." Jack said with glassy, dreamy eyes. "She's..."  
"Aye?"  
"She is..." He snapped his mouth shut and blinked. "She's far too big. That's what she is. Far too big. No one needs a ship that big."  
"Ye're jealous."  
"Am not!"  
"Ye're jealous, Jack."  
"No, I am perfectly happy with both your and my choice of a ship, luv."  
"Ye're lying, daddy. Ye're jealous."  
"No I'm..." Then he grinned. "Just a tad bit."  
Imogen laughed. "What are ye doing in this stinking armpit of a town?"  
Jack grinned and reached into his pocket. "Was in the area and hoped... ye know... that me little one would come to Tortuga to have a drink on her birthday."  
Imogen's grin widened. "Ye're joking!"  
"Happy Birthday, me little mermaid", Jack said with a smirk and produced a small package from the pocket of his coat and Imogen fell around his neck with another screech.  
"Oh thank ye, daddy! Thank ye!"  
"Heavens, ye smell like an old barrel." He gently pushed her away and placed the package into her hand. "Here."

"What is it?", Imogen asked and tried to unpack it, no easy undertaking in her momentary state. Jack took pity on her after a while and undid the knots that held the package together.  
"I bought this ages ago", Jack said softly as he spread out the cloth on the palm of his hand. "Meant to give it to you... you know, back then, as we had meant to meet in Tortuga and ye never came because..." He shot her a cautious glance.  
"Cause I had run into Barbossa", Imogen finished for him and Jack seemed genuinely relieved.  
"Aye, that's the one.""So what is it?"

Jack smiled and picked up the golden necklace with the pendant made from red coral that he had, ever since the day he bought it, carried around with him, always meaning to give it to her, and always forgetting it. He fastened the necklace around her neck and grinned.

Imogen picked up the pendant to look at it. "It's beautiful", she said. "Thank you so much."  
He grinned. "Happy birthday, luv."  
Imogen slung her arms around him again and sighed. "Thanks, daddy."  
Jack patted her back and Imogen leaned back with a broad grin.  
"Well then, won't keep ye", Jack said. "Meant to leave with the early tide, luv. Having a drink with ye is by now out of question, I suppose." He winked.Imogen shook her head with a grin.  
"It was good seeing you again, Jack." She patted his cheek.  
Jack took her hand in his and kissed it. "Same here, luv. Take care of yerself an' all."

Imogen watched him go with a grin and still grinning, walked back onto her ship, the eight still men in attendance. But back in the stillness and loneliness of her own cabin, she sat down on the bed and kicked off her boots with the grin slowly dying on her face. She had not forgotten how rotten her last birthday had been. She had only desperately tried to ignore the memories. She had even been successful, for a while.

But before her inner eyes, she could still see the flashing, colourful lights of the fireworks.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Lucas had another look at the necklace, finely woven golden rings with inset pearls forming something very much resembling Flemish lace. A large, tear-shaped pearl was the central pendant in the middle.

Elysande sat at the table before the mirror and arranged a few hairpins, yet stopped when she saw him approach. She did not turn around, yet smiled at him in the mirror.

Leaning forward a little, Lucas placed the necklace around Elysande's long and graceful neck. Her eyes widened as she watched him do it, and even more so when they came to rest on the necklace itself in its simple beauty.

"Happy first anniversary", Lucas said with a smile that no matter how he tried did not reach his eyes.  
Elysande smiled as well and slowly got up. "Thank you", she said. "It is beautiful. Thank you so much."  
"Not as beautiful as you, Elysande." He kissed her hands.  
Still smiling, although he could not help but notice that it was a little sad, somehow, Elysande looked up at him. "I am afraid you have caught me unawares, milord, for I do not have a gift for you."  
"Oh, but you have", Lucas gave back and gently placed a hand on the swelling under her already high kirtled dress.  
Elysande leaned her head against his shoulders and Lucas put an arm around her. "Thank you", he whispered and kissed her temple, his hand still resting on her belly. "Thank you."


	51. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

After her usual call on the governor, Imogen walked back to her ship deciding where she would lodge for the coming few days. The governor had invited her to attend his birthday celebrations that were, by sheer chance, held the very next day. She had seen no way to refuse and remain polite and had even had the impression he would have liked her to attend. And only now did it occur to her that he had no clue when her birthday was but she was sure it was for the better. And she did not know what she should feel about knowing his. It only added another day of dread to her mental calendar: The twenty-second of September.

Back in her cabin, Imogen hoisted her small bag upon her back and left again, still indecisive where she would stay. Wilhelm's Gulden was a nice place with comfortable rooms, but actually way too expensive for the likes of her. There was another inn, closer to the harbour, The Milkmaid's Bucket, and with a sigh Imogen listened to the voice of reason and headed there instead of the Gulden.

The place was not as shabby as that she couldn't have a bath here, but the rooms were not nearly as comfortably furnished as the ones in the Gulden or the Golden Anchor in Tortuga, even. But even though, Imogen ordered a bath, went into the taproom after that to have some food and a few drinks and made her way upstairs again late in the night and dreading the morning. She was not looking forward to attend another celebration in the governor's residence. The last one had left a bad enough aftertaste in her mind and she did not care for repeating that particular course of events that had caused it.

Imogen sat down on the bed with a sigh, unbuckled her belt and shrugged off her vest. Carelessly pulling her shirt over her head, she forgot about her necklace (she had put Jack's necklace safely away, for it was so finely woven gold she had been afraid it might tear and she would lose it) and did not realise this until a soft clattering sound made her look. She had pulled the necklace over her head with the shirt and it had fallen down, yet before Imogen could move, it slid, cross first, into the crack between two floorboards.

With a steady stream of curses, Imogen pulled the shirt over her head again and lowered herself down to peek into the crack. She could see nothing.  
"Bloody buggering hell..." She got up again and bit her lower lip, then shrugged and took the knife out of the sheath that was still attached to her belt. Using this as a lever, she managed to loosen one of the floorboards and shoved it aside. She saw, in the darkness below it, nothing but lint, dirt, a few mouse droppings and... there, to the left, a golden shimmer. She would need to move another board to reach it.

"Come one...", she muttered, levering and pulling at the floorboard one which didn't move as easily as the first one, but eventually, it came loose and Imogen pushed this aside, too. There was a broad gap between the floorboards in her room and the ceiling below it and Imogen had to lower herself onto her belly and dive with head and shoulders into the hole, arms first, and still couldn't quite reach it. Slightly afraid she would get stuck if she moved too far, she cautiously wedged her upper body a bit forward, and another bit... and then finally, she could reach the necklace with her fingertips. Light shone through the cracks between the boards, coming from the room below, and Imogen silently prayed the necklace would not fancy sliding through one of those cracks, as well.

She could hear the low voices of two men talking in Dutch in the room below but ignored this as she was still stretching and straining her fingers. And then, finally, the necklace was hers again. She was about to push herself back when she heard, below, someone say: "... the governor?"  
This, understandably, caught her attention and giving in to curiosity, she remained where she was, eavesdropping.

"The governor." That voice had a strange accent. She could not place it.  
"Are you serious?"  
"Do I look as if I was joking?"  
"No..."  
"Then stop talking nonsense. You are paid for it."

Imogen held her breath.

"For this, I am not being paid enough."  
"Will this take care of your reluctance?"

The heavy sound of a bag of gold being dropped onto the table. A long silence followed.

"Why?"  
"Not your business."  
"Whom for?"  
"Not your business, either."  
"I want to know whom I risk my neck for."  
"That."

Maybe he was talking about the gold, but that, Imogen could only guess.

"Fair enough. But it is still very risky."  
"I came to you because I was told you are the best man for the job."  
"Maybe I am. That does not make it less risky."  
"You will not get any more money. Take it or leave it."  
"I take it."

Another long silence.

"When?"  
"The birthday celebration."

Imogen bit her lip.

"That is tomorrow! Impossible!"  
"Are you the best man for this or are you not? You are beginning to annoy me. What are you, a man or a mouse?"  
"If you start to insult me now, we won't have a deal."  
"I can find someone else. Can you find that much gold again anytime soon?"

Silence.

"Right. All right. Tomorrow it is. Why so soon?"  
"Not your business. The celebration is the perfect time because everyone will be feasting and drinking and no one will suspect anything."  
"I wouldn't bet on that."

Imogen smiled grimly.

"I will meet with you again in three days. Do not ask where. I find you."  
"Very well. And if I succeed?"  
"You will have another one of those."  
"And if I don't?"  
"You will be dead and need no money any more, or you will have narrowly escaped with your life and you will be glad you have at least half the amount. But I advise you to succeed. My superiors have a very short patience."  
"Right. All right. I do not fancy making a mess of a job, and beforehand, at that. Rest assured."  
"Hah, no. Not before this is over and done."  
"Suit yourself"

Someone moved a chair. Footfall on wooden floorboards. A door opened and shut. Imogen tried to see something, anything, but the gaps between the boards were too narrow. Somewhat later, she heard the second chair move, another set of footfalls, and the door opened and closed again.

It took Imogen a few minutes to unfreeze herself and worm and squiggle out of the hole. When she finally lowered herself down onto her backside and crossed her legs, staring at the hole before her, she asked herself what in god's name she was supposed to do now. It was past midnight. She could not go and see the governor to warn him. She could go and warn him tomorrow... but by the time she would reach him, it might well be too late already.

"Why always me? Why is it bloody always me?" True, it was a lucky thing she had overheard it, otherwise no one would have a clue what was about to happen. But if it really was a good thing would only tomorrow show. If she was able to prevent it.

With a groan, Imogen buried her face in her hands. There would be a hundred people there tomorrow, most likely more. And only two of them knew about this. One of them was the assassin. And the other one... was her.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Needles to say, Imogen did not sleep anymore that night, and needless to say, she felt absolutely shattered the next morning. Yet grimacing and fighting her tiredness, she got up, washed her face, braided her hair, tucked it under the wig, straightened her clothes and popped a few coca leafs into her mouth before she left the inn to head for the governor's residence. And due to the event being a peaceful celebration, of course no one would be allowed to bear arms. Most likely, no one but her would even think of it. But as it was, she had neither sabre nor a pistol, the only thing that vaguely resembled a weapon was the small damascene blade at her belt that was, due to its size, more decoration than anything else.

It was rather like last time, as she had been here for Christmas. Food was abundant, servants carrying drinks were abundant, the musicians were in the exact same spot as last time, too. Restless and nervous, and yet worried about her sleepless night and thus constantly chewing coca leafs to stay alert, Imogen wandered around, this time not to avoid the governor's presence, but to seek it. To be able to keep an eye on him. Someone would try and kill him today. But what with so many people around, she couldn't even go and tell him. _"Good Morning, Doctor de Beer.__Good Morning, Mrs van Huuiten.__ Oh, by the way, governor, did you know that you are about to be assassinated today?"_

"Imogen!"  
She spun around and saw Paul van Rijmenant walk up to her. "Morning, Paul."  
"Heavens, and what is wrong with you today?"  
Imogen gave him a long stare, but then took his arm and dragged him away out of earshot of anyone else. Completely puzzled, he stared at her until Imogen had made sure there was no one eavesdropping on them.  
"Paul", she said. "Last night I overheard two men in the inn where I stayed. They were planning on assassinating the governor today."  
Paul goggled. "Are you... no, you aren't kidding me, are you."  
"Wish I was. Please... Whom can I tell this? How can I warn the governor without everyone else being aware, and thus the assassin, as well? We have to catch him in the process, otherwise..."  
"Quite", Paul gave back with a very unhappy expression. Doubtlessly he had rather spent the day eating, drinking and being careless for a while and Imogen felt sorry for him.  
"Please, Paul. We have to keep an eye on him."  
"Aye, no doubt." Then he pulled himself together and straightened up. "No doubt. Seems the governor makes a habit out of his privateers saving his arse."

Imogen grinned, but it was not a very happy grin.

They walked back into the mass of people again and decided to split up and try and guard the governor as unobtrusively as possible. One of them, they had agreed, would always be close to him. But the main problem to start with now was to find him first. That proved to be amazingly difficult.Since she did not wish to cause any stir nor draw any attention on her and her actions, Imogen could not just go and ask people where he happened to be. So she walked around, her nerves wrecked by to little sleep, worry and too many coca leafs.

Imogen was sure she had run around for hours before she finally saw him emerge from some door, his wife walking at his side. He shook hands with a lot of people, a polite smile on his face that seemed to Imogen a little artificial. But maybe she was wrong. He wasn't a man of emotions, he kept them very tightly in check and thus, a smiling, happy attitude was out of question for him. She had only ever seen him laugh once. And only a few times chuckle or smile other than politely.

Imogen followed him, using all the skills she had acquired as a pickpocket in Tortuga and no one seemed to realise she was shadowing the governor.

If only she knew how the assassin looked! If only she had been able to catch a glimpse of his face! But she hadn't, and she didn't know what weapon he would use, either. Something small, no doubt. A small, sharp knife. And that could be hidden anywhere.

With a sigh, Imogen stood back behind a tree and watched the governor more closely. Checking again from the corner of her eye, she saw that Paul was milling with the people directly around him. With a heavy sigh, Imogen stared into the leaves above her and closed her eyes for a second. Not yet mid day. This was going to be a long day. In the dim hope it would help her, Imogen shoved two more coca leafs into her mouth and watched the governor shake a few more hands as she chewed. The leafs took, at least momentarily, care of her tiredness and her sharp senses returned to her.

Someone shouted.

Imogen was instantly poised ready to jump like a coiled up snake and had moved forward as she watched Paul grab a man from behind in whose hand flashed something metallic. Hell broke loose in the group of people surrounding the governor and Imogen took another few steps, looking around with a nervous prickling sensation in her guts.

That amateur was supposed to be the best man for the job? Paul had already disarmed him and brought him down. A few guards appeared.

The governor, slightly shaken, exchanged a few words with van Rijmenant and Imogen could see his eyes widen. He nodded and then followed Paul's gaze, seeing Imogen stand a few steps away from the tree she had been hiding behind. He smiled and inclined his head, yet Imogen suddenly broke into a run.

_Not a__gain!_ This had happened before!

Her world slowed down as she sprinted the short distance towards the governor, eyes wide with panic as she fixed them on the reflection of sunlight on metal on the wall surrounding the garden.

The governor looked puzzled.

Imogen was sure she could hear the weapon being cocked. With a grunt, she pushed herself off the ground and careened into the governor at full speed, jerking at his sleeves to bring him down as she spun around him.

The shot fell.

A woman screamed.

Imogen staggered back. There was a searing, indescribable pain filling her chest and she couldn't breathe. Her world spun and her vision greyed out at the edges.

Something hard hit her back.

She tried to gasp for air again. Still, nothing happened. Someone took her shoulders and straightened her upper body up. With all her force, urged by panic of suffocating, Imogen finally managed to suck a tiny bit of air into her lungs with a squeezing, whistling sound.

"Imogen..." That was Paul. He was holding her up. "Steady. Easy. Easy." He leaned her against him to support her upright and held her shoulders, and with red dots dancing before her eyes, Imogen managed to squeeze some more air into her tortured lungs. The pain was almost unbearable. She slowly lowered her head and saw, above her left breast, a red blotch on her shirt that was slowly growing.

She had been shot. She had been shot straight in the chest. Why then, for god's sake, was she still conscious and aware of this? Why wasn't she dead long since?

Her vision began to fade.

"Imogen!"  
"Guards!"  
"Someone shot the Captain!"  
"Is he still here?"  
"Doctor! Where is de Beer?"  
"Imogen!"  
"Make way!"  
"You two, over there. You two, search there. Over the walls! At once!"  
"Governor!"  
"Someone help her!"  
"Make way! For god's sake, get the hell out of the way! Let me through to her!"  
"Doctor!"  
"Great and merciful God..."

Strange, she thought. She had always heard about that hearing was the last sense that left you as you died.

It seemed to be the truth.


	52. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

"Get these people away, governor!"  
Still shaken to the core, Lucas managed to get onto his feet again and bark orders at the people to get inside at once. That shocked him even more. He had never heard himself talk like this. The guards aided him in getting the people away and as he turned around, he heard the doctor snap at one of his servants to fetch his instruments.  
"Run to my house. Tell my wife I need my bag. She will know what to do. And be quick about it!"  
The servant nodded and broke into a run.

Lucas walked slowly back to the three of them. Van Rijmenant was supporting her upper body, holding it upright against his, the doctor leaned over her, and Imogen herself was by now slightly bluish in the face and gasping for air with an occasional terrible, agonizing moan. The red blotch on her shirt was still growing and feeling strangely cold, Lucas slowly knelt down beside the doctor, watching van Rijmenant try and comfort her.  
"Imogen! Shhh. It's all right. Imogen. It's all right." Paul placed his hands on her cheeks to calm her, with moderate success.  
Watching him, Lucas wrenched his eyes off her face, and got up in one quick movement. He could hardly suppress the urge of pushing him aside to do what he was doing. It should be him comforting her...

"I shall have my servants ready a room for her." With that, he left them and walked back inside to do exactly that, leaving the doctor and van Rijmenant alone with her, fighting for her life. He could do nothing apart from watch the doctor tear her shirt into shreds and use this as a bandage to try and staunch the bleeding, and he cared little for seeing her so helpless and exposed.

And even as he tried, he knew he would never rid his memories of the picture of her jerking body backwards with blood sputtering from her chest and shoulder, nor the sound of her scream as the bullet had gone right through her.

He found a servant, gave the orders, and then wondered where Elysande might be. This must have upset her greatly, he knew, and he felt the urge to check on her as much as he felt the urge to go outside again to see if she had truly survived or if the doctor was losing the fight despite all he did. He refused to dwell on that thought and walked through the strangely empty house. The guards had sent everyone home.

He looked into the large salon which was empty, but as he neared the small one, he could hear two female voices, Elysande and her maidservant. He slowly opened the door and saw her sit in the chair, her feet propped up on a stool, and her maid fussing about her with a glass of water and a moist cloth.

"Elysande."  
"Lucas!" She jumped out f her chair like a startled cat and then ran up to him and threw herself into his arms with a sob. "Oh my god, what happened? Are you hurt?"  
"No, I am not." He ran a hand up and down her back. "I am unharmed."  
"What about the poor Captain?"  
"I am not quite sure if she will survive."  
"Oh god, she must not die!"

His face a stony mask of self control, he could not answer. But he could only agree.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x x x x**

Of course, neither of the guards that had set out to capture the man who had shot at the governor from the walls had found anything. They all came back empty handed and dispirited. No one had seen the faintest trace of him.

The man who had attacked the governor with the knife, however, had turned out to be a less than smart cut throat, obviously hired only to provide the real assassin with a proper distraction. A plan that had almost worked. Almost.

And only thanks to Captain Sparrow and her fast reaction was he still here to contemplate this. He was not sure if she had intentionally taken the bullet that had been meant for him. In retrospective, remembering her moves and expressions, she seemed to have acted purely on instinct and had not wasted any time with thinking. Her only goal had been to save him from being shot. And thus, she had completely disregarded the danger to herself.

Lucas was not sure if he would ever be able to look into a mirror again if she would not survive this. Not to speak of never being able to sleep again.

It was just of no use. He had to check on her. If nothing else, he could always pretend polite interest in the welfare of the captain, and rightfully so since she had saved his life. He pushed back his chair and left his office and the reports on his desk to themselves and left through the backdoor.

_"A rather handy thing that you have a backdoor to your office, Governor."_

He gritted his teeth. He could have done without so many constant reminders of what was lost to him. He should, for that matter, not be bothered about it other than being upset that he could not simply accept it. He had to accept it. He knew he had to accept it and yet... yet he couldn't.

More than a year had passed already, and still, he could not accept it was over. Even if it was. He was absolutely sure it was over. But that did not stop him from remembering what had been. And yet... memories faded.  
He remembered that there had been some strange, spicy taste in her kisses. But he did not remember the taste itself. He could hardly remember the feeling of her springy, unruly curls sifting through his fingers.  
It wasn't that he had forgotten them. It was more that they had been replaced. Replaced by Elysande's kisses, and by the feeling of her hair under his hands.

And somehow, deep down he knew that this was far worse than forgetting.

Although it wasn't even his fault, truly. Should he treat his wife like nothing more than a kennel master would a bitch for breeding? He had not lied when he had told Elysande he was fond of her. Hers was the least fault.

_"__That's not your fault either. You are what you are. No more, and no less.__"_

He stopped his pacing and crossed his arms.

No. A vile miser would he be if he really made Elysande responsible for his fate. A vile miser and a miserable character. She was his wife, and the mother of his child, and did in no way deserve being treated like the source of all his misery. It had not been her choice whatsoever to be married away to a man she did not know and to be torn away from her home and her family.

Shaking his head, he began walking again, but he could not get rid of the thought if this had not been avoidable. If he had not been a coward.

Should he just have openly stand to the woman he loved? Should he not have asked her to be his wife and mean it? Would this really have caused so many problems, with him being the youngest son of twelve and the governor of a backwater colony somewhere at the other end of the world?

With clenched jaws, he walked down the corridor and shook his head. And where would that have led? All his other brothers were married long since, already. No one else fitting for this union to weld this alliance had been available. There had been only him.  
And no one, not van Dijk and not Wilhelm in person, should ever have that lever against him. One of the ships that had carried the troops to Curacao had been the Duke of Ijssel's own, half the men, his.

Had he not married Elysande and forged this alliance, most likely Wilhelm would not have had the strength and resources to spare to concern himself with an outlying colony, as wealthy as it was. Not with a war on his doorstep.

There was just no point.

But even still.

Even though he knew all that, and even though he did all that was in his power for Elysande, still... still, the memories did not let him rest.

Sometimes, he had to only close his eyes and feel her fingers running through his hair. _"What a waste for a man!"_

And could he really be blamed for that? He stopped again. _"Oh god... what are we going to do now?"_

"Milord!"  
He turned around to see one of the serving maids.  
"I finally found you!"  
He had to refrain from shouting, although he knew already what she was going to say. "Lisanne?"  
"The Captain..."  
Lucas had to summon all his strength to keep his face even faintly under control. _Oh god, Imogen... what am_** I**_ going to do now?  
_He spun around on his heel and headed for her room.

Never would it have occurred to him that _she_ would be there before him.

And therefore, not expecting her there, not even thinking she might be there, he was taken utterly by surprise as he entered Imogen's room in utmost haste, urged by panic at seeing her die, and by even more panic at finding her dead already, therefore it took him a moment too long as he had entered to summon his face under control again.

Too long.

For Elysande, sitting beside Imogen's bed and holding her hand, had seen the expression on his face upon entering.

And no matter what he tried, and no matter how stony he kept his face now, she had seen it.

She knew.

Not bothering with pretending or lying, he just stared at his wife, and she returned the gaze with a hint of sadness in her otherwise unmoving face. She did not move, either. Apart from... Apart from gently stroking the back of Imogen's hand with her thumb.

The only sound was Imogen's rasping, laborious breathing.

"She is still alive", Elysande whispered after what seemed like an eternity. "But she is very weak. I think she might be slipping away from us."  
Lucas felt no words to say as she stood up and placed Imogen's hand down onto the blanket covering her.  
Elysande did not take her eyes of his as she spoke. "You should talk to her."  
He shook his head in a vain attempt of keeping in control of this whole madness.  
"Lucas." She stepped closer and rested her hand against his chest. "Being worried about her life is not adultery." She searched his eyes and sighed. "And speaking her name is not breaking your oath to me."  
Lucas hesitatingly placed his hand around hers.  
"Can I blame her? Can I blame you?" Elysande shook her head. "Can I blame her for having found in you something to live for that is great enough to die for?" She placed her other hand on his cheek. "And can I blame you for returning such a love?" She shook her head again. "I surely cannot." She dropped her hand again and took a step back. "God may have granted her the strength to survive. But only in her is it to find the will to use it." And with these words, she left, and Lucas stood there, frozen on the spot, his heart still racing, his mind still spinning and unable to find any words.

Slowly and with the feeling his limbs were cast of lead, Lucas walked over to the bed and sat down on the chair beside it. With cold hands he took her hand in his and ran his thumb across the back of it.

He leaned a little over to her to look at her face. It was pale and her lips were a pale shade of blue, due to the huge amount of blood that she had lost. Her breathing was heavy and obviously caused her pain. It was a slim chance for survival to begin with, for there was a gap of no more than three inches between the shoulder blade and the heart and lungs and miraculously, the bullet had found it and had hit neither. Yet a wound like that was dangerous in itself, as it was close to the heart and bled terribly. She had survived the shot... but if she would survive the loss of blood was another matter entirely.

"Imogen..." He squeezed her fingers. No reaction whatsoever showed in her face that she was aware of him. And he realised that this had happened before... him sitting at her bed while being worried about her survival... and lost in a turmoil of contradicting feelings.

He took a deep breath. Summoned all the strength into his voice he could possibly summon. Spoke with the most solemn authority he could muster.

"Captain Sparrow, I hereby order you to immediately refrain from dying. Is that understood?"

Was he imagining it? No, her lips twitched.  
She was still unconscious... but she seemed to smile.

* * *

_Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for. _Dag Hammarskjöld, Swedish statesman 


	53. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

"Not that I blame you, but it looks rather unsettling, Governor."  
Lucas followed de Beer's gaze that rested on the sabre at his side. Ever since that attempted assassination, six weeks ago, he had not walked without a weapon. "I do agree, Doctor. It feels unsettling as well, to be walking around your own house and private rooms carrying arms. But I'd rather feel unwell like this than..."  
"Of course, of course." The doctor took a sip of his tea. "I suppose you do not have any news yet?"  
The governor shook his head. "No sighting, no trace. And I still have no clue who could be responsible for this."  
"Maybe that is because you lack the proper distance to judge the case", de Beer replied and set down his cup. Lucas shot him a questioning look before lowering his eyes back to the chessboard on the table between them.

What with both of them busy men they seldom had a chance to take some time for this game, and both of them were very deliberate players. Seldom was it that each made more than three or four moves an hour and thus was it that this particular game already had lasted them over a year. Every now and then, they would find some time and spend an hour or two over the board, only to have it rest for another month or two before both of them could sit down together again.

"See, what you need is a motif", de Beer went on after moving the black bishop. "Do you have motifs?"  
Lucas raised his brows. "Not yet."  
"Aha." It almost sounded as if the Doctor had found the culprit already and he leaned forward. "That's what I meant. You fail to spot them because everything is too close to our eyes."  
"Please be so kind as to elaborate", the governor gave back and looked at the doctor expectantly.  
"With pleasure, Governor, with pleasure." De Beer took another sip of his tea and then leaned back into his chair, resting his gaze on Lucas face. "Let's see", he went on. "And mind, a motif does not mean we have whom we want. It means we can reduce the possibilities."  
Lucas crossed his arms. "Go on."

"Van Dijk", the doctor said. "His motif: Either revenge for the death of his brother or reinstalling himself as the governor. Maybe both."  
Lucas shook his head. "Godfried van Dijk is a gentleman and a man of honour. I sincerely doubt he would sink so low to achieve a goal."  
"You cannot look into people's heads."  
"And neither can you, doctor, apart from after their demise when it is of no use anymore, anyway."  
The doctor smiled thinly. "Bare theories, Governor. I do not claim to know the truth."  
"Go on."  
"The second motif I can spot: Your wife."  
"I ask you to refrain from tasteless jokes."  
"I happen not to be joking, Governor. For what would become of her would you be killed? A grieving widow, who makes her way back home into the lap of her family. Everyone knows how unhappy she is here."  
Lucas sat up straight again. "And you do suspect her capable of hiring someone to dispose of her husband?"  
"Well", the doctor replied. "But the motif is there."  
"I refuse to linger on that notion, Doctor."  
"Very well. The third motif..."  
"How many do you have?"  
"Just his one left."  
"So?"  
"The Captain."  
"Which one?"  
"Sparrow."  
"I beg you to be serious."  
The Doctor shrugged. "I admit that with the Captain having saved your life, she does not qualify as a suspect. Maybe she just changed her mind the last minute, but she has a motif, Governor."  
"And that is?"  
"Never underestimate the bitterness of a woman scorned, Governor."

Lucas held his gaze. Both men stared at each other for minutes.

"I will believe you do not mean to insult me", the governor finally said in an icy voice.  
"I didn't." De Beer shrugged. "I was talking about motifs, not suspects."  
"To what avail?"  
"To make us able to see more."  
"Some that make more sense than those you have been able to come up with?"  
"Hopefully."  
Lucas took a deep breath. "Very well."  
"The trouble is, Governor, that you cannot really allow yourself to disregard anything before it has not been proven wrong. Only believing it is wrong will not save your life."  
"From my own wife?"  
"It would not be the first time in history, Governor."

A long silence followed. Both men sipped their tea, lost in furious thinking. Finally, after almost half an hour, Lucas leaned forward and moved the ivory queen, capturing one of the ebony pawns with her.

"Governor", the doctor said. "Did you ever find out who else was sharing profits with van Dijk the younger?"  
"Apart from de Baanstedt? No..." He blinked. "Can this be?"  
The doctor looked thoughtfully at his fingers. "The only question is, what would this achieve for him?"  
Lucas stared into his empty cup. "He is he only one I would willingly suspect. And yet, he is the only one without a proper motif. It will not change his position as Governor of Nassau. He had been smuggling with van Dijk, and the choices then were taking up this duty or facing a court back home. Killing me will not change it. He would have to dispose of the documents, as well. And copies of those have gone to Amsterdam."  
"Hm." De Beer frowned. "It truly seems our best chance is to wait until the assassin strikes again and catching him in the act."  
Lucas looked at the weapon at his side. "In that case, maybe you, too, Doctor, should keep a closer eye on me. In case he succeeds in getting close enough to my person."  
He got up and the doctor followed his lead. "There are several reasons this would make sense, Governor."  
Lucas nodded.

Not only had the state of Imogen rapidly worsened in the last two days after a fever had hit her, but also was Elysande's state of health rather worrying as she complained about false labour and bleeding. With her being well into her eigth month now, it was still far too early for her to go into labour and the Doctor's wife, who was one of Wilhelmstad's midwives, was already living under his roof for that reason.

The two men left the study and agreed that the Doctor, too, should stay close to all three of them as all three, the governor, his wife and the Captain in his care, were in vulnerable positions. In the truest meaning of the word, at that.

After seeing the doctor off, Lucas went back into his study and stared at the chessboard.

Maybe it was time to rearrange the pieces in what seemed like a larger game that was going on around him and to which no one had invited him before presenting him with the board.  
His best spy was currently stationed in Port Royal, but maybe this was the time to exchange him and send him to Nassau instead. Maybe keeping an eye on de Baanstedt's private correspondence would not be a bad idea, presently. Lucas picked up an ivory bishop and twirled it between his fingers.

With a sigh, he put the bishop back and looked at the board again. Yes, there was a large game going on around him and someone was moving the pieces. But not only did Lucas not know who his adversary was. He did not even know which colour he played.

He left his study, the weight of his weapon dragging at him like it was cast of lead. But he did not dare take it off, for fear he might need it the moment he did. It hung at him like a foreboding.

As he reached the door of Imogen's room, the memories of the day she had taken the wound washed over him again. The memories of what had happened... and of what had happened that night.

_When Lucas entered the bedroom late that night, he found Elysande awake, yet this time, wasn't really surprised by it. Walking up to her, he realised he did not know what he could say. He wanted to tell her so many things. And yet, he found now words. _

_Elysande slowly turned around to look at him, but her eyes were dry and her face held only a trace of sadness. "It is her."  
__He didn't have to ask what she meant. "Yes."  
__She lowered her eyes.  
__"Elysande, please... forgive me. I am sorry. I am..." He sighed heavily. "I do__ no__t know what I can say."  
__"Milord."__ She looked at him again. "I said there is no need to apologize for things that do not lie in your fault."  
__"Yet still, I should have..."  
__"Kept it secret?" She shook her head. "I rather know. __Because__ now, I know I can give up the hope of ever winning your heart. This is something that I stand no chance against."_

_Lucas swallowed and felt he could not meet her eyes anymore. "Elysande", he whispered. "If you wish it so, then... then you will not have to share a bed with me anymore."  
__Her voice was gentle. __"Look at me."  
__He did what she asked.  
__"Is it for your sake or for mine that you say this?"  
__"For yours.__ I could imagine you do not wish to be..."  
__"At your side anymore?"__ She blinked, and a tear fell from her lashes.  
__Both were silent for the duration of a few heartbeats.  
__"Lucas, you know that I love you."  
__He swallowed and reached out to cautiously touch her cheek, wiping the tears away with his fingers. "I do", he whispered. "And if I could only..."  
__"I asked you not to lie to me."  
__"I wish it could be true."_

_She looked at hi__m, simply shaking her head,__ and Lucas felt close to tears himself when he saw the sorrow in her eyes. "It will never be. I know it won't. And yet, I can blame neither you nor her. I will not hate her for holding your heart. I cannot hate you for loving her. And as long as you won't hate me for..."  
__"Elysande!"__ He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips. "No. Never think that. Please! __Never.__ I..."  
__Elysande closed her eyes and let the tears flow down her cheeks. "Lucas", she whispered then. "Lie to me. Lie to me, and I shall know it is wrong but believe it nonetheless. And it will be my own fault, as I asked you to. Lie to me. __Just this once."  
__Lucas swallowed and took a deep breath. __"Elysande", he whispered, cold shivers running down his spine. "I love you." He kissed her, __kissed her lips that tasted of salt and he __kissed her tears away, caressed her soft skin with his fingers and held her close to him, one hand resting on the back of her neck and the other on her belly__ until she finally stopped weeping __i__nto his shoulder_

With another sigh, he opened the door and entered.

He had come to expect her here, but he had not gotten used to seeing his wife care so lovingly for the woman who could rightfully only be called her rival. Yet Elysande, being the woman she was, belied all attempts on blaming any faults on her.  
Not that he did. Someone else might, had they known, but no one knew. Apart from his friend de Beer, whom Lucas now knew to be suspecting something. But he had never lost a word about it apart from that one hint earlier.

"How is she?"  
Elysande straightened up and wrung out the cloth she had wiped Imogen's face with over the bowl. "The fever is not rising any more, but neither does it fall. I do not know what else to do apart from cooling her body down with cold water. Can you summon the doctor?"  
Lucas stepped closer to the bed. Lately he had less and less problems in keeping his face under control. Humans could, seemingly, get used to everything. "The doctor is already on his way here, my dear", he answered, his eyes on Imogen's flushed and moist face. "I asked him to join his wife, as there is more than one possibility that we might need his skills on a very short notice."  
Elysande's eyes wandered from his face to his belt, where the weapon hung, and back again. "A wise move, milord."

Lucas could think of no reply and kept silent as he watched his wife settle down again and pick up a cup from the nightstand. Leaning over Imogen, she put one hand under her head and the cup to her lips.  
"Drink", she whispered. "You need to drink this..."  
Some of the liquid found the way between her lips. She made a face, obviously, the medicine tasted horrible, but with the fever so high and her sweating so much, she was so parched that she drank it, nonetheless.  
"There, isn't that better?", Elysande said when the cup was empty and caressed Imogen's cheek with her hand. "Rest now."  
"Water..." Imogen licked her cracked lips and her voice was so hoarse it was hardly audible. "Water..."  
Wordlessly, Elysande got up and filled the cup again from a crock that sat on the nightstand. "Here", she said gently, holding the cup to her lips again while supporting her head. "Careful."

Lucas slowly walked over to the window and listened to Elysande's gentle, calming voice comforting Imogen. How any soul could endure this and yet, keep so free of any feeling of hate and despite was beyond him. He was sure that had it been him, he would not have the strength to do it.

After a while he was unable to measure, he felt her step to his side and lay a hand on his arm.

He slowly turned around to face her. "How do you deserve ending up with a man like me?"  
She blinked.  
"How can a soul that is as yours, so full of love like an angel's, and as enduring and forgiving as a saint's, how can you be punished with a fate like that?" He could not keep his voice from trembling slightly.  
"Punished?" Elysande shook her head. "You believe I think myself punished?"  
"I cannot believe you are happy with this situation, Elysande." He searched her eyes.  
Yet Elysande smiled, a sad but gentle smile. "I might not be happy, milord. But punished, I am not. You do not know, I assume, that I was betrothed to another man before my father gave me to you?"  
Lucas blinked. "I did not know that, no."  
Elysande pressed her lips into a thin line. "Before, I was betrothed to Gerben Boudewijn Berkouver."  
"Berkouver..." Lucas narrowed his eyes until his memory provided him with a face. "I was not aware that he had a son."  
"He hasn't."

It took a while for Lucas brain to make sense of it, and then, it did so only very reluctantly. "Holy god, that man is sixty if he is a year!"  
Elysande's smile had turned bitter. "Sixty and two. I do not know what he discussed with my father. I do not know what they agreed, or what was behind it. I only know that the Duke of Ijssel does not particularly care for his daughters, nor his wife who begged him not to do it. He has blamed her all her life for not giving him any sons."  
Lucas shook his head. "What happened?"  
"You have not heard it yet? He has had a stroke and is now bedridden and lame on the whole left side of his body, if he still lives. It seems god has finally punished him for his ways."  
Taking a deep breath, Lucas took one of Elysande's hands. "He never had a very good reputation, I admit knowing that much."  
"Good reputation? God, Lucas, he has buried four wives already! And here I was, facing the prospect of being number five... did you know that one of his wives never survived the wedding night?"  
Lucas couldn't help shuddering. "No. No, I wasn't. Mother of god... and your father had promised you to such a man?"  
Elysande did not reply and Lucas put an arm around her and pulled her close.  
"I am blessed, not punished", she finally whispered into his shoulder. "Ever since my wedding night, I thank god on my knees every day for bringing me here. Believe me, I am rather alive and away from them than beaten to death by a vile drunkard."  
Holding her even closer, Lucas ran a hand down her back. "God has his ways of keeping us wonder about his motifs."

He felt her turn in his arms and followed her gaze. She was looking back at Imogen.


	54. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

Another week passed without anything happening. It was the waiting for something you dreaded to happen that was the worst bit, Lucas realised, and not only did it rob him of almost all his sleep but also did it make him feel edgy and irritated beyond words to express it, and sometimes, beyond his ability to control it. Lately, he snapped a lot at people over nothing, and spent a lot of the time first brooding, then apologizing.

The doctor kept out of his way. His wife Anneliese had stronger nerves; as a midwife, she was used to being shouted at (and worse), and she was used to edgy, irritated men, to boot. So she just snapped back, governor or no, and otherwise remained unmoved.  
Elysande bore his moods with her usual, angelic patience and accepted his elaborate apologies without a single bad word.  
The servants took great pains to tiptoe around him.

He began to wish the assassin would come again, just to have the waiting over.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

"Governor, that is a very bad move, if I may say so."

Lucas followed the doctor's gaze and blinked, then moved his hand away from the tower and took a deep breath. "Indeed, Doctor, I thank you. I seem to have troubles concentrating today."  
"I won't hold that against you", de Beer replied and took a sip of his sherry. Lucas' own glass was still standing on the table, untouched since he had poured it two hours ago.

"Have you heard anything interesting from Nassau yet?" De Beer put his glass down again.

Still staring at the chessboard, Lucas shook his head. "The only thing so far was a love letter to a lady here in Curacao, and I have to admit, it made my ears tingle and my cheeks glow. I hate to spy on people's love affairs."  
"You never know where you might find useful information, although I agree that reading other peoples love letters is not a favourite past time of me, either." The doctor leaned back again.  
Lucas did not move his eyes from the pieces. "Surely not in reading what de Baanstedt plans on lavishing certain parts of her anatomy with, Doctor."  
De Beer cleared his throat.

"Be that as it may", Lucas said and moved his horse. "Any day now another mail runner is due." He captured one of de Beer's pawns.  
The doctor frowned. "What if our friend de Baanstedt has nothing to do with it?"  
"I have no idea. We will have to look elsewhere for motifs again, I suppose."  
Nodding almost absentmindedly, de Beer moved his bishop and captured the ivory queen. "That was a rather careless move, Governor."  
Lucas stared at the board. "It seems so." The ebony pieces were by now outnumbering the ivory ones. "But sometimes..." He moved his own bishop. "Sometimes a sacrifice is the best strategy of distraction." He captured the ebony queen. "Checkmate, my friend."

De Beer blinked, narrowed his eyes, sighed and then chuckled. "The oldest trick of all. Serves me right for falling for that plump little ruse." With a small grin, he turned over his king.

Both men leaned back and contemplated the board.

"Another one?"  
Lucas looked up with a faint smile. "Feeling the need for revenge, are we?"  
De Beer grinned. "And maybe this time we won't have to wait until..."

Glass crashed. Somewhere along the corridor, someone had dropped a pitcher or large bowl, by the sound of it, and both men shot upright.

"No!"

"Elysande!" Without thinking, Lucas was out of his chair and out of the door, followed by the doctor who clenched his jaws as he watched him unsheathe the sabre.

"HELP!"

The sound had come from Imogen's room. The door was agape and a platter was lying in the doorway, surrounded by shards of glass and a large puddle of water. The window was open and a breeze stirred the curtains. A woman screamed and he saw that Elysande was wrestling a black clad figure standing next to Imogen's bed.

"NO!" Lucas sprang forward, his sabre brandished, and only in the very last second he remembered that he should try and not kill him to get some information out of him.

At that moment, Elysande screamed again. It was a scream that curdled Lucas' blood. It was a scream so hoarse with pain and agony that he stopped thinking and threw himself bodily at the man, not caring how many or what weapons he would carry on his person. Both men landed sprawling on the floor and with the strength of both fury and panic, Lucas hammered the hilt of his sabre right into his adversary's face. His nose broke with a splatter of blood and a sickening crunch, and ignoring his groan, Lucas dropped the sabre grabbed him at the collar with both hands, dragged him upright with him and ran his head crown first against the nearest wall.

Only then, as the man fell motionless and bleeding from his hands, did he realised what he had done. He had never acted so brutally in his life before. And yet... there had been no time for gentlemanly behaviour nor had there been any sense in trying to fight fairly.

Sweating with fear, he fell down onto his knees again and looked at Elysande, lying in a pool of blood diluted with water.  
"Elysande..." He touched her face and she moaned. "Doctor..!"  
The doctor was already on his way and knelt down opposite him. "Holy mother of god..."  
And then, finally, Lucas realised it. The water did not come from any upturned bottle or bowl. The assassin had rammed the knife into her body, several times, at that. Shaking his head in mute terror, Lucas ran his hands through his hair. "No, great god, please... no..."  
"Governor."  
He reached out for her face again and another soft moan escaped her lips.  
"Governor, get out of here. Get my wife. At once."  
Lucas shook his head again. His limbs did not obey him and he stared at his wife with a frozen face.  
"Governor!" By the simple means of slapping him as hard as he could, the doctor finally brought his senses back to him, but only somewhat. "Now!"  
Still completely out of his wits, Lucas staggered to his feet again but as he reached the door, two servants and three soldiers were already approaching.

"The midwife" Lucas gasped. "Quick!"  
Anneliese appeared moments later, she must have heard the commotion and then his voice. She was wearing only a nightshirt but had thrown a shawl around her shoulders. "Where?"  
Lucas could only extend his arm.  
With a nod, she hurried past him, yet as he was about to follow her, she slammed the door shut into his face. Unable to move away, Lucas stared at the door with a stony face.

He must be having a nightmare. This could not possibly be happening...

Mildly interested, he watched the guards drag the assassin away, but he remained where he was, leaning against the wall next to the door, frozen into immobility.

Time lost all meaning as he stood there, staring into the empty air before him, unable to rid himself of the picture of Elysande lying in her blood. This was not happening. It could not...

A sound caught his attention. A wail. Not Elysande, though. It was a tiny sound. Dimly, he could hear voices through the door.  
"He must not cool down", he could her Anneliese say. "If he loses his temperature, we will lose him."  
"Wrap him into this."  
"It's not warm enough. We must keep him warm!"

Him?

More time passed. Time in which Lucas' mind refused to make sense of the last sound he had heard. Time in which he asked himself countless times if he could have avoided it, if he could have moved faster, differently, if he could not have done something. _Anything_. Anything but...

The door opened. "Lucas."  
He turned around and saw the face of his friend de Beer, pale and furrowed in pain. "Doctor?"  
The doctor shook his head. "You better come in. I tried to save the child, but..." He swallowed. "I am sorry. I can do nothing more for her."

Feeling as if he was operating his body like a puppet on a string, Lucas followed the doctor inside and slowly, went down onto his knees beside Elysande. Her dress had been slit open completely but was now wrapped around her body, her belly once again flat.

"Elysande..." Carefully, Lucas cradled her up into his arms and she opened her eyes.  
"Lucas." Her voice was no more than a whisper. "Ruben. Please... call him Ruben."  
Biting his lips, Lucas brought a trembling hand to her face. "I shall. Ruben Cornelius. My eldest brother's name."  
She managed a strained, little smile. "Your brother... I shall never know him."  
"Elysande." He caressed her cheek. "Just rest yourself. And when you have recovered, we will go home to Utrecht. I promise. I shall bring you there myself, and we shall walk along the canals and feed the birds on the square in front of St John's chapel..."  
"No." She slowly shook her head. "You know it. I... I can't..."  
"Elysande... no... please, do not give up." He ran a thumb across her delicate cheekbone. "Please..."  
"I would have so loved to see Utrecht again...", she whispered. "With you." A tear escaped her eyes. "I shall watch Utrecht from above, my love, and think of you."

Lucas shook his head in vain denial. Why could he not wake up from this nightmare? Any moment now, and he should sit up gasping in his bed... and everything would be all right... "Elysande..."  
"No." She closed her eyes for a second. "I..."

And staring at her face, Lucas could no longer deny it. He was losing her.

"Elysande." He leaned forward even more, to bring his face closer to hers. Something heavy was beginning to press him down, and something cold and suffocating closed itself around his heart like a ring, closing, clenching his heart until it was so tight he could hardly breathe. "I promise. I shall bring you home." He could hardly recognise his own voice. "I shall bring you home, to my family. I shall bring you to Utrecht, and you shall rest there, with my family. Then you can stay there. Forever."  
She smiled again. "God bless you, my love. God bless you..." She closed her eyes.

_"God __may__ have granted her the strength to survive. But only in her is it to find the will to use it."_

"No!" Lucas increased the pressure of his fingers on her cheek. "Elysande... what shall I do without you?"  
Slowly and laboriously, Elysande opened her eyes again. "You shall embrace life again, my love." Then she lifted her left arm, and with her breathing becoming more and more ragged with every passing second, rested it on his head like a feather light blessing. "Absence diminishes small loves... and increases great ones", she whispered, looking into his eyes, and smiled again, a soft, gentle, almost angelic smile. "As the wind blows out the candle..." Her eyelids fluttered. "...and fans the bonfire." She took another breath. "I would have you be happy, Lucas", she whispered, and moved her hand down from his head to his cheek. But before he could say anything else, her hand slid from his face and fell down completely.  
"Elysande..." Shaking his head again, he stared at her face, and at her eyes that had rested on his for the whole time. The light vanished from them. A soft sigh escaped her chest and it did move no more.

"No... Elysande... no... please... oh God!" He threw back his head and gritted his teeth. "Great and merciful God, please... no..." Then he lowered his head again and stared at her, feeling his soul turn to ashes.

With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched her cheek again, then moved it up and slowly, still shaking his head in useless, fruitless, desperate denial, closed her eyes. He remained there, on his knees, her body in his arms, and stared at her fragile, almost transparent face. He could hear Anneliese de Beer sob and turn into her husband's embrace. The doctor patted her back for a while, then let go of her to walk over to where Lucas was kneeling.

"We saved the child", the doctor said softly. "I am sorry. Lucas, I did what I could."  
"I am not blaming you." Was that his voice?  
"He needs a wet-nurse, and quickly. Do you have a nursing woman in your household?"  
Lucas couldn't even blink, so frozen were his eyes on Elysande's face. "I think one of the kitchen maids has a child that age."  
"I shall summon her."  
"Where is he?"  
"Safe for now."

Lucas did not ask. He did not look up as the doctor walked to the door and exchanged a few words with the servants outside. He was still waiting to wake up from this nightmare.

A hand was laid on his shoulder and finally was he able to tear his gaze away from Elysande's face to follow where the doctor was pointing.

_"He must not cool down. If he loses his temperature, we will lose him."  
__"Wrap him into this."  
__"It's not warm enough. We must keep him warm!"_

They had done the only thing they could think of. Faced with the pressing necessity to keep him warm they had put the boy, tiny due to the fact he was weeks premature, in the only warm place there was. He was lying on Imogen's fever ridden body, curled up on her chest, nestled under her blanket.

And as he looked, Imogen suddenly moved and slowly, lifted one of her arms and likewise slowly, put it around the child, resting her hand on his back. Then she turned her head and finally, opened her eyes, glassy with fever and red-rimmed with tears.

"She saved me", she rasped. "He wanted to kill me." She swallowed heavily and a tear flowed down her cheek. "He wanted to kill me... and I couldn't move... she threw herself in his way. He wanted me... and she saved me... Lucas... forgive me. Please... I could do nothing..."  
The ring around his heart tightened one final time.  
"Lucas... forgive me..."  
It was not her fault, he knew. Bu he could say nothing. Gathering Elysande up, he put his other arm under her legs and, resting her head against his shoulder, managed to get onto his feet again. He was caught in a nightmare... in a nightmare he could not wake up from. Because he was not asleep.

He headed for the door and as he reached it, Imogen's desperate voice called out to him again.

"Lucas..."He turned around once more and looked into her eyes. A part of him knew that he should say something to her. And yet he couldn't. Wordlessly he turned around again and left.

The two soldiers he passed crossed themselves as he did so. A serving maid came his way and stopped dead when she saw him head for another empty bedroom, and saw what he was carrying.  
"Lay her out", he said to her and the maid swallowed, curtsied and nodded before vanishing. He carried Elysande inside, gently placed her on the bed and, not knowing what else to do, walked back to his study.

There his eyes fell on the chessboard, and on the white queen lying next to it.

_"Sometimes a sacrifice is the best strategy of distraction."_

He slowly reached out and moved the last ivory pawn one field forward. It reached the opposite end of the board and, according to the rules of the game, could then be exchanged for a new queen. Yet he did not pick up the ivory queen.  
He reached for the ebony one and stared at it for ages as it was lying in the palm of his hand. Then he slowly set it down onto the board again and turned away.

"Milord?"  
He turned to see a maid hovering in the door, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.  
"She is ready."

He nodded and followed her.

They had clad her in a new dress, had washed her and combed her hair and two candles were lit on each side of her head. She looked so peaceful now, so perfect... as if she was only sleeping. Resting. Yes, she was resting.  
He leaned over her and kissed her cheek. "Rest well, my dear", he whispered and knelt down beside the bed, folded his hands and rested his forehead on them. And discovered he could find no words for a prayer. He found no words at all.

He would have liked to be able to shed tears, at least. For her sake, he would have wanted to cry. And yet, he could not. His eyes were dry. He could not weep. He felt so numb as if his soul and body had turned into stone.

_"...__as the wind blows out the candle...__ and fans the bonfire."_

He did not know how long he had knelt there before someone laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Lucas..."  
He lifted his head and rested his eyes on Elysande's face again. "Koenraad", he said through clenched jaws. "What kind of man am I? What kind... of man..."  
"You are what god has made you."  
"We are all as god has made us, and oftentimes a great deal worse", Lucas replied in a whisper, a bitter smile on his lips. "What kind of man am I?"  
"A man whose heart and soul have been torn between his sense of duty and the call of his heart, Lucas."  
"My heart... God forgive me... How can I even think these kinds of thoughts what with her body hardly cold?"  
"Because the heart, my friend, always only asks pleasure first."  
He dropped his head on his hands again. "Leave me alone."  
The doctor closed his hand around his shoulder before he took it away. "You know where to find me", he said and left.

"God forgive me", Lucas whispered. "And forgive me, Elysande."

_"I would have you be happy, Lucas..."_

* * *

_Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle, and fans the bonfire._ Francois, Duc de la Rochefoucauld (1613-1680) 

_We are all as god has made us and oftentimes a great deal worse._ Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616)


	55. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

"Lucas..."

Watching him leave like that, after he had looked at her like that, Imogen was caught up in her own nightmare. His eyes had looked at her out of a soul that was dead. He was blaming her for the death of his wife; he was making her responsible for this. The facts were very simple, after all.  
She tried to save you. And now she is dead.  
Imogen felt like it had been her very own hand guiding the dagger that had killed her.

"It's not my fault", she whispered desperately, trying to at least convince herself. "Please... it's not my fault." But the door did not open again. He did not come back.

"Captain." The doctor stepped beside her bed. "No one is blaming you."  
"He is." She lifted her eyes up into his face.  
"No." De Beer cautiously sat down on the bed beside her. "He has received a heavy blow today. Do not hold it against him that he is not master of his feelings right now and has no words of comfort to spare."  
Imogen lowered her eyes again, and rested them on the head that peeked out under her blanket. "It should have been me."  
"I do not think it is that easy, Captain."  
"But it is." Using all her force of will, Imogen pushed herself back a little and propped her shoulders against the wall to sit a bit more upright. Breathing was a little easier that way although it hurt more. "It should have been me." Imogen gently closed her arms around the tiny boy. "I am just a random privateer, a pirate. No one would have grieved my passing. But now he doesn't have a mother anymore." She felt her head swim and had to close her eyes.  
"Captain, I don't think..."

The door opened that moment and in stepped a young woman, wrapped in a blanket and seemingly still a bit dazzled from being awoken so late at night.

"What has happened?" She stared at the doctor in complete confusion. Obviously, whoever had awoken her had not been very concise.  
"We need a wet-nurse, immediately. Only as long as we have found someone to take care of the boy."  
The woman closed the blanked tighter around her shoulder. "But I am already weaning my child", she said. "I hardly have any milk left."  
De Beer shrugged. "You will have to do, I'm afraid. He needs every help he can get, as he was born a few weeks early. He is very weak."  
"I understand." She walked up to the bed and only then recognised Imogen. She stared at the doctor again. "Whose child is this?"  
"The governor's wife's."  
"And... where is she? Is she well?"  
The doctor sighed. "She is dead."  
She covered her mouth with her hand with a gasp. "Holy Virgin Mary... what happened?"  
"Nothing I care to explain right now. Will you help us?"  
"If ever I can." She reached for the child.

For reasons she could not quite fathom, Imogen felt strangely reluctant to part from the boy who was cuddled against her body. She was not wearing a shirt, because of the bandage and the wound, and the feeling of his skin against hers did so painfully remind her of Josh... and then, it felt completely different, yet again. He was so tiny, and thus, even more helpless and Imogen felt, more than anything else, like curling around him to protect him. But he needed milk, and she could not give him that. Strangely enough, she felt a weird, tingling pain in her breasts as she finally extended her arms and let the woman take him. Before she could take him away, however, Imogen reached out again and placed her fingertips on his head, tufted with a fine, white silky hair that was almost as delicate as cobwebs.

"I know I cannot give you your mother back", Imogen whispered hoarsely. "She died to save my worthless life, and never will I be able to make up for that." She gulped for air. "But I swear that I shall protect you. I shall protect you... with all my strength, with my last dying breath and my last drop of blood if I have to. I swear upon the head of my own son... that I will die for you as if you were my own son, too, Ruben Cornelius van Huuiten. I swear." Then she closed her eyes and let her head drop against the wall, breathing heavily. She had no desire to break into tears in front of all these people, the maid, the doctor, the midwife and the servants hovering in the door. She also did not want to know why they all stared at her like that. Was it really that far-fetched from her to make such an oath?

Little did she know that the fresh pain in the left side of her left chest originated in the fact that with her attempt to sit upright, she had caused the wound to bleed again.

But to the people around her, the onlookers who had witnessed Imogen give such an oath, and who saw the red blotch grow on the bandage covering her body, it seemed for all that's worth as if she had parted from the child with a bleeding heart.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

After having spent the whole night kneeling at her side, keeping his vigil with an unmoving face and an unmoving body, Lucas felt he could hardly get up again as the sun finally rose. He did not know why, but he had the feeling that now, with having stayed at her side for the whole of the night, he had fulfilled a duty he had not known had existed. As if he had only needed to remain with her until sunrise, to make sure her soul would not go astray and could go with the light of the rising sun.

But maybe the long hours spent watching her lifeless, waxen face and peaceful expression had finally enabled his mind to accept the fact that she was dead. That she was gone. Utterly, irretrievably gone. And looking at her face now, in daylight, he could not deny any more that what was lying on the bed was not Elysande. It was what Elysande had left behind on her last journey; shed like an old, heavy winter coat that was no longer needed with the summer come.

Two more times the doctor had checked on him, and two more times he had sent him away. He came again now, and gave him a cautious, questioning look at finding him standing beside the window, no longer kneeling beside the bed.

"I promised to bring her home, Koenraad."  
"You did."  
Lucas did not look at the doctor who was now walking up beside him. "I do not know how to achieve this, my friend."  
De Beer shrugged. "I would suggest that we have her body cremated. You can then hold on to the ashes until you will be, indeed, able to bring her home."  
"That thought had not occurred to me." Maybe because he couldn't possibly have thought about burning Elysande. Yet with the acceptance that Elysande was gone and her remains nothing more but an empty shell, his mind no longer shied away from the thought.  
"Lucas." The doctor sighed again. "I am sorry, I truly am."  
"You shall not blame yourself, my friend. I do not doubt the slightest bit that you tried everything in your power to save her." Lucas slowly crossed his hands behind his back. "I feel I should rather thank you for trying your best and at least, saving the life of the child." Finally, he was able to look at his friend. "Is he well?"

"He is, although we have to be a bit cautious yet. He is very weak and I advise you to keep that in mind. I know children have lived when born that early. More often than not, however, they die. I am sorry not to have better news for you, but I would rather admit I was wrong afterwards than rising hopes only to have them shattered."  
"I appreciate that", Lucas gave back. "I do not suppose there is anything I can do."  
"No. Anneliese has gone off to find a proper wet nurse. All you can do is make her welcome. She will be living here for a long while."  
Lucas nodded silently and stared out of the window. "Strange, really, how a part of me still expects her to walk in any minute, bearing a platter with a cup of tea for me and scolding me for worrying too much."  
The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder. "It takes people that way. It takes everyone that way."  
"I know."

De Beer followed his gaze and both men looked out of the window.

"I do not know if it may be still too early to mention it", the doctor said after a while. "But I think you should speak a word with the Captain. She blames herself for the death of your wife."  
Furrowing his brow, the governor pressed his lips together for a few seconds before answering. "I did not speak a word of blame to her." He turned to look at de Beer. "Did I?"  
"No." The doctor did not avoid his eyes. "But sometimes, a single look can say more than a thousand words. And a look can come out wrong the same way that words can."  
"I see." With a deep sigh, Lucas dropped his hands. "I admit at not having been..."  
"And you shall not blame yourself, Governor. For every man, there is only so much he can take. And having stabbed your wife to death before your very eyes can shake the strongest soul, if I may say so."  
"And again, I can only agree." Lucas shook his head. "Very well. I shall speak to her now."

He turned around one last time before leaving, to cast another glance at Elysande's face before he left. Both men walked down the corridor in silence.

Anneliese had left with the kitchen maid to settle her down and wrap both her and the boy in blankets so he would be warm and would not have to waste strength on crying for food. She then had gone off to find a wet nurse.  
The doctor had left Imogen quite a while ago as she was now conscious and the fever had finally broken and seemed to be sinking.  
No servant had been instructed to watch over her or stay at her side.

When the two men entered her room, the window was open and the bed was empty, even somewhat straightened. Her clothes were gone.

"Why, that stupid, silly woman!" De Beer walked hastily over to the window and looked out. "She hasn't..."  
"It seems like she has." Lucas shook his head. Would this madness never end? "I shall send a messenger to her ship. She cannot have gone very far yet in her state."  
"I totally agree." The doctor closed the window and furiously shook his head. "Fool! Idiot! Utter, utter dolt! Why did I not think of something like that and left someone with her?"  
Both men exchanged a long glance. "I'd dare say that you, too, cannot think of everything, Doctor."  
"No." He shook his head. "Not really. And don't we all wish we could."  
Lucas shrugged. If only he had thought of... With a mental wrench, he forced his mind away from that thought.

He went to get the messenger on the way.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Staggering from pain, Imogen barely made it towards the harbour, but she had mercilessly pushed her body to get away from the house, and far enough to have a large enough head start before they would notice her gone and look for her.

She dragged herself up the gangplank and finally, when she was on deck, her knees gave way under her and she collapsed. Her chest and left shoulder hurt beyond words to express it, she was completely out of breath and trembling from exhaustion. Someone hurried towards her and knelt down. "Captain?"

She looked up and stared at Schillebeeck with her jaws locked in pain. "Frans", she said through gritted teeth. "Signal the Windhunter. Set sail now. Get me away from here."  
"In god's name, Captain, what have they done to you?"  
Imogen slowly closed her eyes. "Nothing. It's what I have done. Or rather, what I didn't do. Because... because I couldn't." She swayed slightly and fought her body to remain upright. "Get me away from here. I don't care where. Just away."

It was that moment that Niels came running up the gangplank. Of course he had seen her dragging herself up onto the Hawk and of course had he been worried. He sank down at her other side. "Imogen?"  
"Niels. Get me away from here."  
And Niels, with being her friend now for so long and knowing her so well, could well see in her eyes that she was not only suffering from feverish delusions but that she was being deadly serious.

Within minutes, he had ordered Mick to take over the Windhunter and had gone back onto the Hawk with both crews already in the riggings and hoisting sails as fast as they could.

And when the messenger of the governor finally arrived at the quay, all he could do was watch the Windhunter and the Dusky Hawk slowly head for the mouth of the harbour bay.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

The governor took the news with an unmoving face. Truth to be told, he felt torn. He was worried about her, yes. But on the other side, he could not help but be glad she was away from his presence.

He knew it to be strange.

With Elysande alive, he had been constantly tempted and she had not even needed to be present.  
But now... now, with Elysande dead, he was glad Imogen was away. For with his soul being raw with fresh grief, he just plainly could not handle her presence. He had wished often enough that Elysande had not come into his life. He had often enough dreamed of somehow, finding a way of being with Imogen again. But now that Elysande had died, all those thoughts and dreams became more insulting and demeaning than they ever had been before.

Walking up the stairs to his private rooms, he realised he was well aware of his turmoil and confusion. Elysande had known about her. And she had died defending her. It was beyond him how a soul could do something like this.

But even though he knew Elysande had died defending her, he could not help himself, he could not stop some part of his soul from blaming Imogen for Elysande's death. He knew this to be nonsense. But he was too tired to fight any of his feelings right now. Those feelings, at least, that had survived last night's nightmares. He still felt completely numb. And awfully tired.

He reached the bedroom and opened the door. And there it was again. The sensation of expecting her to stand at the window and smile at him.

Shaking his head in frustration, he walked over past the bed into his dressing room. There he shrugged off his coat, took of the vest and carelessly dropped them onto a chair. He neither removed his shirt nor his grey breeches before he opened the wardrobe; and there found what he was looking for only after some serious research. It was at the very back, unused for ages.

With slow and sluggish movements, for his fingers were not really obeying him for a reason he neither knew nor cared about, he untied the bunch of lace at his throat and dropped it onto the chair, as well. He put on the new vest and buttoned it up, and likewise, the waistcoat. Checking himself in the mirror, he smoothed down the somewhat unfamiliar piece of clothing and adjusted his wig again. Already, he realised, had the lack of sleep and what had caused it carved sharp lines around his mouth.

Clad in the black of mourning, he made his way back down to his office to check on the pieces of the game again.

Maybe the assassin had confessed something. The mail runner, too, had arrived even while the Windhunter and Dusky Hawk had left the harbour, and Lucas was eager to learn what he could. He would gladly read any amount of love letters, for that matter, if it could enhance the chance for him to find what he was looking for. A hint. A motif. A proof.

Because now, he was no longer trying to find out who had been sending assassins after him.

He was hunting the murderer of his wife.


	56. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54**

The fever came back with full force only two days after they had left Curacao. Niels had vague ideas about treating someone with high fever, and spent days and nights at Imogen's side, wrapping her legs and arms in rags soaked in cold water. Yet she couldn't eat any food, and he was hardly able to spoon any water into her. She was growing weaker with every passing hour and Niels wasn't sure she would make it to Tortuga.

And what then, he did not know. He had no idea what difference it could make if she was on sea or in a harbour, any harbour. For Niels had seen her in similar bad states, and he had seen her fight for her life with a force that had been admirable. And thus he knew that this time, she simply wasn't fighting. She simply seemed to have given upon herself and was slowly wasting away with fever.

But he wouldn't have been Niels Peer Henningsen if he would give up so easily on the life of a friend. When they reached Tortuga, Imogen was barely alive, but he refused to give up yet and simply carried her away from her ship and into his own house where he asked his wife to take care of her. Imogen was far too weak to protest and he wasn't sure if she was even aware of it.

Being experienced in nursing sick children through fever, Alma treated Imogen not differently. And since she possessed the same resoluteness and having the same thick head that Niels had, she took the duty on with the knowledge that failure was not an option.

From a trustworthy herb woman she acquired medicines that would fight fevers. This and warm, nourishing broth did she spoon into Imogen with the stubbornness of a mule.

Alma was a sturdy woman. She had only recently given birth to her and Niels' sixth child, yet she did not complain once about the extra burden. And for that, Niels admired her and loved her all the more. He did what he could do to help her, watched over Imogen as often as he could so Alma could have a rest. And between the two stubborn, unrelenting minds and their persisting care, soup and medicine, they would pull her through. They kept telling this each other every night.

Two weeks they fought for Imogen's life in joined efforts, taking shifts at her bed and doing what was in their power to keep her temperature down. And then, finally, one day she showed the first sign of life: she turned her head and murmured something. Niels leaned closer, but he could not understand her due to the fact that Mathilde, their newest family member, was having a bad start in the day and was screaming her poor little head off.

Narrowing his eyes, Niels leaned even closer and tried to understand what she was saying.

Rum? She couldn't, possibly. And yet, it sounded like rum.  
Or run? Was she telling someone to run?  
Her lips moved frantically, but they formed only the one single word.  
Ruby? What the bloody buggering hell...

Mathilde calmed down somewhat and the noise ceased. Yet Imogen grew more restless.

Niels looked helplessly up to his wife as she entered with a bowl in one hand and the red faced baby on the other arm. "She says something", he said. "But I can't understand her. It's only one word."  
Alma put the bowl onto the table and came closer to listen.  
Imogen threw her head to and fro. "Ru..."  
The two exchanged a puzzled glance.  
"Ruben..."  
"Ruben?" Alma shook her head. "That's a name!"  
"It's a male name", Niels added and stared at Imogen again. She was clenching and unclenching her fists.  
"Do you know someone called Ruben?", Alma asked.  
Niels shook his head. He had no idea who Ruben was. He had an idea who Ruben _not_ was, as he knew van Huuiten's names and Ruben was not one of them. And yet, what was puzzling was that it was definitely a Dutch name.

Imogen suddenly tossed. "Give him to me...", she rasped. "Give..."  
"I thought her son's name was Josh", Alma said.  
Niels shrugged. He was completely at a loss. She was calling for someone called Ruben. She was asking to give him to her. So Ruben must be a child... and Alma was right, her son was called Josh. Staring at her restless form, Niels scratched his head with a very unhappy frown.  
"Please..." Imogen threw her head to one side again. "Please... just once..."

Alma leaned forward a little more and slowly, narrowed her eyes in a very thoughtful stare full of calculation. Then she peeled Mathilde out of the crook of her arm and cautiously, lowered the child down, resting her on her belly on Imogen's chest.

To both her and Niels' utter surprise, Imogen calmed down instantly.

"Humph." Alma shrugged, being a pragmatic, down-to-earth person. "Suits me right. If she calms down with the baby, then she can gladly take care of the little maggot during her naps. Leaves my hands free for other things."

Niels could only agree, yet he still couldn't quite grasp what was going on with his friend. But obviously, Alma was right. For Imogen had not only stopped tossing, her face had also relaxed. And Mathilde certainly did not seem to mind, as to her, Imogen was presently nothing else than quite warm and cosy. And even while Niels could see the proof before his very eyes, it was absolutely beyond him why the presence of an infant would calm her down or comfort her, especially since she had not called for her own son. And he more than ever hoped for Imogen to get better very soon. Otherwise he would simply die of curiosity.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Finally finding rest, Imogen slept. Niels had accepted it, although he still was puzzled by it. But they kept Mathilde in her vicinity, and for most of the time, the girl just slept under Imogen's blanket. It was an arrangement that suited both of them and Alma, to boot. Both Imogen and Mathilde were pacified and slept and Alma could occupy herself with other tasks.

Niels, in turn, occupied himself with keeping the crews together. Every other day, he checked on them and thus, was not really surprised that came mid-December, some of the Dutchmen wanted to set sail for Curacao again to be with their families. Niels told them they were free to go and asked them to be back. They promised. Time would tell. But keep them with force, he certainly couldn't. Yet he gave them money for a passage as he didn't care for having to tell Imogen that he lost her ship.

When he came back home that day, Alma greeted him happily and Niels was delighted to learn that Imogen finally had woken up. He hastened into her chamber and couldn't help but grin as he saw her sit up, a pillow propped into her back.

"Heaven and hell, Imogen, am I glad to see ye awake!" He sat down onto the bed beside her. "How do ye feel?"  
"Rotten. Niels, what happened?" Her eyes were still a bit glassy, and she was awfully thin after those weeks of fever, but she was alive and awake again.  
"Ye had a fever."Imogen blinked. "Where am I?"  
"In my house in Tortuga."  
This time, she goggled. "I was unconscious the whole way here?"  
"Zat, and two weeks more. Going to be Christmas in two weeks and a bit."  
"Niels..." Imogen shook her head. "What did ye do with me all the time?"  
Niels shrugged with a slightly strained grin. "Not letting ye die."

Imogen stared at him for a long while, then shook her head again. She knew that she was seriously fed up with her life. She knew that giving up would have been easy. But she was alive, and that meant, she would have to go her way just a little bit further. And so, even while she knew that she would rather not have woken up, she also knew that having woken up would enable her to hold the oath she had given the boy whose mother had died to save her life. No... Had she died now, Elysande would have died in vain. For her sake, she had to go on, no matter the cost.

She swallowed and shook her head again, and then she smiled at Niels and sighed. "_Danke __mein__ Freund."_ (1)  
Niels blinked, then a slow smile crept onto his face. "_Schon __recht_", he muttered and patted her head. (2)

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

There was no Christmas celebration in the governor's residence that year, or one for the beginning of the New Year. The house was in mourning.

Each night, Lucas walked through the almost empty house, alone and lost in thought, ambling aimlessly through the still and silent corridors. No new assassin had made another attempt to take his life. But no clue or piece of information that could have brought him closer to solving the mystery of who was behind this had appeared, either. Another letter addressed to de Baanstedt had been nothing but endless, badly composed family gossip, several pages of nothing but ranting about these or those vices of random cousins, aunts or uncles. It had made his hairs stand on end reading it.

A sound to his right made him turn. He had just passed the nursery and, after looking at the door for a while, entered and had a look around.

Katrien was already up and just now, picked Ruben out of the cradle. Just the day before, the doctor and the midwife had agreed that by now, he was finally out of the worst danger as he had reached the weight and size a newborn child should have.

He was a fighter, little Ruben. He had not given up, had clung to his little life, and with the help of Anneliese, capable midwife and a mother six times over herself, and of Katrien, the wet-nurse who cared lovingly for him, he had made it. He no longer needed to be carried around directly at the wet-nurse's breasts and could sleep in the cradle, as well. Plain was, he did not like the last part. As soon as Katrien picked him up, he calmed down and stopped crying, which meant he could not be hungry.  
"Is everything all right with him, Katrien?"

She turned around and stifled a yawn. "It is, milord. He does not like sleeping alone. He is fed, dry and warm, but he doesn't like it in the cradle."  
Lucas stepped a little closer. Only now had it occurred to him that he had never touched the boy, he hadn't even looked at him properly yet.  
"He sleeps like an angel when someone's carrying him, milord. But as soon as I put him down, he cries, and when he finally sleeps, he does so for not very long before he cries again. It will pass, the midwife said."  
Lucas looked at her and realised she had dark and large smudges under her eyes.  
She stifled another yawn. "Uh, I'm sorry, milord. But when he can't sleep, neither can I."

He shifted his eyes from her face down to Ruben, curled up against her chest with his head resting at her shoulder. "Give him to me."  
Katrien blinked.  
"I cannot sleep anyway, and that way, at least you and he can get a little bit of a rest. Give him to me."  
"Why... Yes." She turned around again and bent over the cradle. "Let me wrap him up."

The boy swaddled in a blanket, she handed him to Lucas who took him with a very awkward movement. Katrien had to show and explain to him how to hold a baby; he had never done so before in his entire life.  
"They are tiny, yes, but they don't break, don't be afraid to touch them. Hold him close to your heart. They like listening to heartbeats, it calms them down. Maybe they remember how it was back inside, when everything was still safe for them."  
Lucas nodded slowly and, having adjusted the tiny body in his arms, found that it was comfortable enough having him rest in the crook of his left arm.  
"Have a good night's worth of sleep, Katrien", he said and the wet-nurse yawned but smiled gratefully at him.  
"Bless you, milord, I shall. I gather he will be hungry again in four or five hours."  
"I shall be back by then."  
"You doubtlessly will."  
Nodding again, Lucas turned around and left.

He had not been aware that he had set a special course, but when he reached the door at the end of the lower west wing corridor, he shrugged and opened it. The light in the room was coming from the two, large white candles on the mantelpiece, and the only furniture was a table and two chairs, set at the other end of the room than the hearth above which a large painting hung, the portrait that pictured the present governor of Curacao and his wife shortly after their wedding. It had decorated the wall of the hallway leading to his office, and he had it removed and brought here, the golden frame now shrouded in black gauze.

On the mantelpiece itself, below the picture and flanked by the two candles, stood the silver urn that held Elysande's ashes.

Eight weeks had passed since she had died. Eight weeks in which Lucas had not had a single night without being tormented by his memories and eaten by the question if he could not have done something to save her. Eight weeks in which he had spent hours each night staring at the empty pillow beside him.

By now, he was close to believing that a good and undisturbed night's sleep was something he would never experience again.

He stared at the urn for endless moments.

"You have given me a strong son, Elysande", he finally said. "And I promise to make sure that he shall know what kind of woman his mother was." He shifted his eyes onto the face of his sleeping son. "May god grant me that I will be able to bring you home. The both of you."

Yet before he reached the door, he turned around and looked at the urn again. "Good night, Elysande", he whispered. "Happy New Year..."

Then he left.

He went back upstairs again, into his study, where he walked over to the window and stared out into the dark and rainy night. Drops of water crept down the window pane and for a moment, the only sound was the soft tapping of raindrops.

Eventually, Lucas gave up staring out of the window and walked over to the divan where he sat down and settled Ruben more comfortably in his arm. And for long, endless moments he just sat there, looking at the face of his sleeping son. His son. His own flesh and blood. The only thing that would remain of him once he himself had left the world. But also the only thing that remained of Elysande. And for some reason, it was a comforting thought to know that something had remained of her. That she was not gone completely.

Looking at Ruben's face, he realised that he was looking for Elysande there. For a trace of her. But of course, it was far too early for that yet. He was so small... God, he was so small! How could anything so small be so perfect at the same time? He cautiously reached out with his right hand to touch Ruben's cheek with a forefinger and the boy's lips twitched into a tiny smile for a second. Fascinated, Lucas tried it again. Ruben smiled again.

With a sigh, Lucas shifted the boy in his arms and leaned back into the divan, not taking his eyes of his son. He touched Ruben's hand and wondered at the perfection of his tiny fingers. Would he play an instrument when was grown? Would he play the harpsichord, like his mother had? Or the cello, like his father? Something else completely?

Would he become a man of the sea? Looking at the sleeping, peaceful infant in his arms, Lucas found it hard to imagine looking at a young man, wearing weapons and a uniform. Saying words to him that his own father had said to Lucas.

_"Do your duty in all things, my son."_

Would he say that?

Or would he rather say to him:

"There will come a day, my son, when you will have to choose between the path of duty and the call of your heart. And when that day comes, think well, and think hard. Not doing your duty can kill your reputation. Not following the call of your heart, my son, can kill your soul."

It took Lucas a while to realise as he sat there, listening to the rain and Ruben's soft breathing, that he had not only thought these words.

* * *

1: Thank you, my friend.  
2: It's all right. 


	57. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

Startled by an unfamiliar sound, Lucas jerked upright and realised he had fallen asleep, for the sun had already risen. Then he realised that what had awoken him was the sound of Ruben's crying. Still dazzled, he got up and hugged the wailing child to his shoulder, feeling a bit awkward as he made his way for the door. How was he supposed to comfort a crying child..?

He closed his right hand around Ruben's head as he entered the corridor, heading for the nursery, and the boy calmed down somewhat.

Katrien had heard the wail coming for the door and was already up and wrapping a shawl around her shoulders as Lucas opened the door. She took the boy from him with a smile and walked over to the large easy chair beside the window. "You look somewhat better, milord", she said as she settled down and started to unbutton her blouse.  
"We... we both have slept for a while", Lucas said after clearing his throat. Then he turned away and left again, for he had no notion to watch any woman bare her breasts before him, even if it was to nurse his own son. His father had beaten a very strong sense of decency, propriety and modesty into him.

But even as he closed the door behind him did he realise what he had said. He had slept. For the first time in weeks, he had had a few hours undisturbed, nightmare-free sleep. He felt a tiny smile spread on his lips as he looked at the door again.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

With Imogen finally recovered, and with the New Year already a few weeks old, the two of them, Niels and Imogen, made their way to the harbour on a somewhat foggy and drizzly day in mid January.

She was surprised as to how her crew hailed her and expressed their delight at seeing her recovered and accepted all the good words and shaken hands with a slightly embarrassed grin, then told them they would head for Curacao, but along the main shipping line, not straight south. Imogen had been gone for a long while now, and she didn't want to come back empty handed. She wasn't sure how she would be welcomed, and if the governor would be overly upset with her disappearance. But maybe he was glad that she had removed herself from his presence.

She suddenly remembered the look he had given her, and the last trace of her smile died on her face. She had, within the last year, slowly come to accept it that she would never have him and never kiss him again. But to have him look at her like that...  
She slowly sat down on the stairs to the helm. The memory of that look made her heart hurt. Of course was he blaming her for Elysande's death. How could he not? How could she not, for that matter? How could she even think of ever going back there? How could she ever face this man again?

Suddenly becoming aware of the fact that she was pressing a hand to her heart in agony, Imogen shook herself and laboured onto her feet, ignoring the worried looks the men around her were giving her.

"Imogen?"  
She turned around to see Niels walk up to her, a worried expression on his face. "Are you quite all right?"  
"It's the wound", Imogen replied and swallowed. "It just... hurts now and then."  
Niels stopped beside her. "So where's it going? Curacao?"  
Imogen avoided his eyes and looked past him across the railing. "I'm not sure..."  
"What about?"  
"If I should go back there at all."  
"And why's zat?"  
"Because..." Imogen slung her arms around her. "Because... because I don't think I'll be welcome there."  
"Bloody hell, Imogen, you saved ze governor's life!"  
"Aye." She swallowed. "And his wife saved mine. Niels, the assassin came back. But he came back to kill me. And she saved my life in that she stepped into his way. Niels..." She finally looked up at her friend again. "She died because she saved my life! And now the governor has lost his wife and the mother of his son because of me!" She almost sobbed. "How can I ever face this man again? I'm sure he'll be glad if he never has to see me again!"

"Imogen." Niels shook his head. "What has he said to you?"  
Imogen blinked. She took a breath, blinked again, and looked at Niels again. "Nothing...", she said in a very meek voice. "But he looked..."  
"He looked?" He shook his head again. "Looked at you? Imogen, for god's sake..."  
"Niels... I've never seen him look like that..."  
"And I bet he has never before lost his wife like zat", the Friesian shot back at her. "For heaven's sake, Imogen!"  
Imogen could only stare at her friend.

"Imogen." Niels ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. "Did you ever realise that when ye're hurt, injured, fevered, sick or just plain tired, ye tend to talk about yerself as if ye were yer own and ze whole world's worst enemy? Why do ye make up all zat bullshit about yourself?"  
"Niels, I..."  
"For Christ's sake, come to yer senses! If he hasn't said a word to ye, how are ye supposed to know? How long ago before ye fled zat house did it happen, anyway?"  
Imogen swallowed and bit her lower lip. "A few hours."  
Niels groaned.  
"Niels, listen, I..."  
"No, you listen to me, Imogen. You are making zings up about yerself again. You are always seeking the worst in yourself. And you will go back and speak to zat man and see zat he does not blame you."  
"I won't!"  
"Oh yes, ye will."  
"The devil I will!"

Both facing the other with crossed arms, they exchanged a glare.

"Do I have to carry ye zere?"  
"Don't ye dare."  
"What will ye do short of shooting me?"  
"Break yer nose, ye bloody German!"  
"If ye can reach zat high, ye're welcome."  
"Bastard!" Imogen took a swing at him, but Niels, not weakened by a weeks of fever, simply sidestepped it and caught her hand in his. No matter how Imogen struggled and cursed, he held on to her hand as if his muscles were made of iron and hers made of unbaked bread dough.  
"Let go of me, ye bloody, insolent buggering dog-shagger!"  
"If ye stop hitting me."  
"HENNINGSEN! Let go of me THIS VERY MINUTE!"

Finally, Niels let go of her hand and as Imogen, furious and embarrassed, straightened her coat, she realised that he was grinning. "What are ye laughing at, sheephead?"  
"You."  
"What?"  
"Imogen." Niels draped an arm around her shoulder. "Anyzing's better zan zat terrible black mood ye've been in zese last weeks. I'd razer have ye shout names at me zan brood zat way."  
Imogen took a deep breath and finally, shook her head with a tiny smile. "Niels, what would I do without ye."  
"Nice of you to finally realise zat." He winked and Imogen shook her head again.  
"Bastard."  
"_Ziege__."__(1)  
_Imogen narrowed her eyes. "I shall see you in Wilhelmstad, Captain Henningsen."  
"Aye, Captain _Spatz_." (2)  
Imogen narrowed her eyes some more.  
Niels grinned.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Even with Niels' help and his reassuring words, Imogen felt a huge lump in her throat as she made her way from the harbour to the governor's office after she had hit Wilhelmstad again, almost three months after she had left. The memory of his eyes, however, and of how they had looked at her, had never quite let go of her and she was still worried he might still look at her that way. Her knees felt weak.

_He won't, he won't, he won't,_ she kept telling herself. _He's a good man, he won't blame you. He won't.._

The servant saw her approach and nodded, and Imogen, not bothering with sitting down, watched him head for the doorway. The governor was standing beside his desk and thus, could see into the corridor as the servant opened the door. And the moment he did, spotting her, he walked hastily towards the door, opened it fully and beckoned her to come in.

Imogen did so with a racing heart.

"Captain Sparrow", the governor said. "In the name of all that is holy... Why on earth did you flee from my house in such a manner? We thought that you surely would be dead after you fled like that, despite being ridden with fever, and then failed to come back."  
"We?", Imogen asked in a tiny voice, not quite believing her ears.  
"Doctor de Beer and myself, Captain."  
"I..." she felt her fingers clutch her hat. "I thought I..."  
He took a deep breath. "You thought I was blaming you for the death of my wife."  
Imogen clenched her jaws. "Yes."  
"Take a seat", he said with a sigh and sat down himself.  
Hesitatingly, Imogen followed his lead.

"Captain", he began. "As tragic as these events were, and as tragic as your own involvement in them was, the fault for them happening is certainly not yours."  
Imogen swallowed. "I... I see. Thank you, sir."  
"Captain Sparrow. I ask you to look at me when you are speaking to me. Or I to you, for that matter."  
Imogen forced herself to look up again.  
"Captain. No one blames you. I understand where that notion comes from, but I won't have it. Do you follow me?"  
"I do, sir. It's just..." She sighed. "I'm sorry..."  
"I do not wish to hear any kind of apology. And I won't have you ask my forgiveness, as little as I shall express it." He looked at her rather sternly. "Because there is nothing to forgive. Is that understood?"  
She nodded mutely.

The governor looked at her for a while.

"Very well", he finally said. "Now that we have settled that, can we get down to business?"  
Imogen tried to rein in her terrible mix of disbelieving relief and painful memories. "Business, sir?"  
"Indeed." He shuffled some papers on his desk. "I need an account of you, Captain. But being as you were unavailable for a while..." He shot her another stern glance as if daring her to say again she was sorry, and Imogen, about to do so, bit it down. "...the investigations in the case of the attempt to annihilate me and the assassination of my wife had to lie somewhat dormant", he went on. "Please, be so kind as to tell me how and when you came into the knowledge of what was about to happen."

Imogen nodded and forced herself to concentrate as she related to the governor all that she could remember of the dialogue she had overheard in the inn and, when he asked how it had come to be, told also how she had only meant to retrieve her necklace.

He had been making hasty notes all the time and was still writing after Imogen had finished. She took the chance to cautiously watch him. Only now did she register that he was wearing a black waistcoat and vest and that no lace whatsoever decorated what was visible of his shirt. He also looked very tired and there were a lot of lines in his face that Imogen hadn't seen before, especially around his mouth. She knew he wasn't a man to smile a lot. But doubtlessly, ever since that cursed, fateful night was he wearing that constant frown which was now carved so deeply onto his face.

"A shame you could not catch a glimpse of them, Captain. Do you think you might recognise the voices?"  
Imogen shrugged. "I'm not too sure. The assassin, unlikely. But the man he was talking to, most definitely. He had a very strange accent."  
"Accent? Could you tell where from?"  
"No. But it was most definitely neither English nor German nor French."  
"I see." He wrote some more, then dropped his quill and leaned back to look at her again. "I do not know if you are aware that the assassin was captured, Captain."  
"I was, dimly."  
He nodded. "We managed to... exert some information out of him. But all he could tell us was that he had not known who was behind all this, either. He had been contacted by a middleman who had hired and paid him, and the description of said middleman was rather unsatisfying: dark hair, brown eyes, strange accent. But whom he in turn was working for remains a mystery."  
"I wish I could be of some more use there, Governor."  
Raising his eyebrows, the governor leaned back in his chair. "And I wish that you should realize of how much use you have been already, Captain. Without your luck in eavesdropping on the plotters, and especially without your swift and striking reaction, we would not be sitting here discussing this but you would be sitting here discussing your business with my successor."  
"Aye. And without it, your wife might still be alive."  
"Captain." He narrowed his eyes. "Would you rather have Elysande still alive and me dead, instead?"

They both stared at each other silently for several minutes.

"That wasn't a very nice thing to ask, Governor", Imogen finally said, her voice hoarse.  
"I have asked myself this question a lot, Captain", he gave back with an unmoving face. "And even as I said: of course would I rather it had been me, I never failed to wonder if I was being honest with myself."  
Imogen chewer her lower lip for a second. "Were you?"  
"I do not know", he gave back. "I simply do not know. I am only a man, Captain. Of course I am glad that I am still alive. And of course, I sometimes find the price I had to pay for this too high. Far too high. At other times, however..." He pressed his lips together before he went on, his voice low. "At other times, I cannot help but think that it was her decision alone to attack an armed man to save someone's life."  
"I don't think she was making a conscious decision, Governor."  
"Maybe not. Were you making a conscious decision when you stood in the path of the bullet intended for me?"  
Imogen swallowed. "No." _But I love you, and you know it._ But of course, she didn't say that.

The governor gave her a long, scrutinizing look, as if he had read that precise sentence in her eyes. Once again, Imogen hated herself for her face of glass that let every emotion clearly show.

"Captain", he finally said, his voice still low. "She did not die for your sake. She died for mine."  
Imogen stared at him in blank confusion.  
"Imogen, if you love someone, deeply and unconditionally, would you not do everything in your power to save someone he loves? For his sake?"  
She felt tears burn in her eyes and swallowed heavily, unable to utter a single word.  
"We cannot change the past, Captain, as much as we wish to do so", the governor suddenly said in a rather stern and sombre voice. "I can neither undo things I did nor unsay things I said, nor can I say or do things I should have said or done. And all that is left for me now is to honour her memory and avenge her death."  
Imogen cleared her throat and forced herself not to falter under his gaze. "The bitterest tears are shed over graves because of that. Words not said or things not done."  
"I see you understand, Captain. And I do hope you understand, as well, that I shall neither disgrace her nor myself. I shall mourn her, and I shall do so until the day I will have avenged her death." He leaned back. "This is all for now, Captain."

Imogen blinked and got up slowly. "A good day, Governor", she said, her voice a little strained.  
Yet before she reached the door, he called her again. "Captain."  
"Governor?" Imogen turned around again.  
He looked straight into her eyes. "I thank you for risking your life to save mine."  
She shrugged. "I did what I thought was right", she gave back.  
"And don't we all", he replied, his voice almost gentle.  
Imogen gave him a questioning look but he did not move a muscle in his face. "The boy is alive and well, Captain", he said then. "I bid you a good day."

She left, her knees as weak and her legs trembling as much as when she had come, even if it was now for a different reason.  
He obviously did not blame her.  
But he also made it quite clear that after what happened, there was no going back in any kind of way. And in the knowledge of what had happened, Imogen felt could she not blame him, in turn. Did it change anything? Of course not. It had been over long since.

But also, she realised, had he offered her what consolation he could. For knowing that he did neither blame nor hate her had lifted an immense burden of her soul and knowing that Ruben was alive and well had brought a smile to her lips, and it was still there as she reached her ship.

"Imogen?"  
"Niels."  
"How..."  
She shrugged. "Ye were right. That's all."  
He smiled at her. "Will ye listen to me from now on?"  
Imogen tilted her head. "Maybe. We're heading north, course Hispaniola."  
Niels patted her shoulder with a grin. "Whatever ye say, Captain."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1: Goat (in German often used as an insult for a woman)  
2: Sparrow

_The_ _bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone._ Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-1896)


	58. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56**

Lucas left his office only minutes after Imogen had left. He had been relieved to see her, true. But also had her appearance caused the turmoil in his soul to stir up again, the turmoil that he had believed to have calmed down by now. But he had meant what he had told Imogen. He would avenge Elysande. He would not rest, nor allow himself any kind of retribution before he had not made sure he had avenged her and whomever was responsible for this had received due punishment. The would-be assassin and his incapable accomplice had already been executed. And whoever had hired the assassin himself in turn would share his fate. He would give himself no rest before Elysande's murderer was in his grave.

A wail broke the spell of dark thoughts as he reached the top of the stairs and he headed for the nursery. He hesitated for a moment as he reached the door, feeling a little embarrassed as he listened to Katrien sing a silly little nursery song (one about sheep and apples falling from trees), but pushing his feelings aside, opened the door and entered.

"Is something wrong with him, Katrien?"  
Katrien stopped her singing and gave him a look that was half apologetic, half desperate. "I'm not too sure, milord. He seems to have cramps, but a warm compress doesn't help him. He won't stop complaining, poor thing, and I can't find out what's wrong. He might just be suffering from winds."  
Lucas crossed the room to stand beside her at the window, looking at Ruben's red and tear-stained face. A heart wrenching wail made Lucas almost flinch and Katrien started to rock the boy in her arms again. "There, there, little one..." She hugged him to her shoulder and the wailing ebbed off somewhat as she began to sing again.

Lucas did not fail to notice that her voice was a little husky. "Have you been singing to him the whole day long?", he asked her.  
Katrien shrugged. "I have, as it calms him down. I don't know what else to do right now. If it doesn't get better by nightfall, I think I'd better go see the midwife with him."  
He nodded and looked at his son again who was rubbing his face at Katrien's shoulder.  
"Katrien", he said after a while. "Why do you not just go and fetch the midwife? And if you could do me a favour, when you are there, ask her husband to come and see me if it is convenient?"  
"I will then, milord", she gave back and Lucas held out his arms.  
"Give him to me in the meantime."  
Katrien gave him a queer glance. "Are you sure?"  
"Do you think it is not a good idea?"  
"Well, no... not as such... I mean..." She broke off and shrugged again. "I mean...you are..."  
"A man, Katrien. Do I not qualify for being able to keep my eye on an infant for a while?"

"Ehm..." She smiled a tiny, embarrassed smile. "It's just surprising that you would, milord. He's not well, after all. I mean..."  
"He is my son, Katrien."  
"He is, milord. Forgive me for..." She shrugged. "It's just unexpected, to see a father take interest in his children, son or no, when they're that small."  
Lucas nodded in understanding. "I know that caring for a child that age is a mother's duty. But he does not have a mother anymore, Katrien. He has only me."  
She looked at him with soft eyes shining with moisture.  
"And I have only him", he added in a low voice and Katrien chewed her lips for a moment before pressing Ruben into his arms.  
"Of course. Forgive me if I gave the impression of thinking it wrong, milord. It may be unexpected, or unusual. But it surely isn't wrong for a father to love his son." She caressed Ruben's cheek with a finger. "Here's your father, little Ruben. Be a good boy and be nice with him. I shall be back shortly." The last words she addressed to the governor again before vanishing to get her coat.

Lucas left the nursery with a strange prickling sensation in his guts.  
_"...but it is not wrong."  
_And what had he gotten for letting himself be convinced it was? He looked at Ruben's reddish face again. Foolish, mad, unwise, unexpected, unusual...  
He did not care. Should everyone shake their heads and give him all the looks of disapproval they liked.

He knew that in general, fathers were not overly interested in their children before you could actually talk to them. After all, where was the point? The cuddling, playing, singing, feeding and dressing were a mother's duty, after all, and a mother's pleasure, usually. But a father had little to do with infants. What should he do with them?  
If he was being honest, he had never thought about it. He had been able to imagine himself talking to a little boy. He had never been able to imagine himself carrying an infant. Not that he had tried. And that was the whole point there. He had not even tried to think about carrying an infant.  
Because that was not what a father was supposed to do.

Opening the door to his study, Lucas found himself trying to remember his own father, trying to find out what his earliest memory was, but it was all a bit blurred through all those years that had gone by. But if there was one thing he was absolutely sure of, then it was the fact that Dominicus Bonifaas van Huuiten had never touched any of his sons other than to give them the hazel rod that he had kept in his cabinet.

He looked at Ruben again who was squirming in his arms while producing a lot of squeaking sounds of discomfort. Then the boy pulled a face and broke an impressively rumbling wind for such a tiny body.  
Lucas blinked. "Well, I gather that was rather relieving the way you look right now", he said, with the tiniest twitch in the corner of his mouth, after looking at his son's facial expression and listening to his deep sigh of content.  
_Oh what a blissful state of innocence, with no sense of modesty, decency or shame __yet curdling__ the mind,_ Lucas thought with a faint smile and hugged the boy to his shoulder.

Unwelcome memories crept up from some hidden corners of his memory.

_"By god and all his angels, don't you have the slightest trace of decency__ you little rat..."  
__"Milord, I beg you..."  
__"Woman!__ Do not meddle around with me when I am trying to make a man out of my misbegotten son!"  
__"Father, I am sorry..."  
__"You stop wailing, you weakling! __If you only had employed more sense before, you would not be here, so accept it and behave like a man!"  
__"Milord, the boy is only five, for god' sake!"  
__"__Hold your tongue, woman!__"_

He couldn't even remember what crime it had been he had committed. He could only remember his father towering over him like a giant with his hazel rod and his mother stand behind him, wrenching her hands. With a stony face, Lucas looked at his father's face in his memories, flushed red and distorted with anger. Maybe that was the reason because he had always so fought to keep his feelings tightly in check. Because his father never had.

Ruben rubbed his face at Lucas' shoulder and sighed again. His head brushed Lucas' chin and that, in turn, made Lucas smile because it felt...  
He blinked. He did not know how to describe that feeling. But he knew, beyond any doubt, that it was a good feeling and that he would suffer no one telling him that it was ridiculous or unmanly to have tender feelings for your infant son.  
Because normally, fathers were what children were threatened with.

_"Wait until your father hears about this!"  
__"Oh, your father shall hear that, and no doubt!"  
__"You just wait until I tell your father!"  
__"And what do you think your father will have to say to... that?"_

And the only other thing he was absolutely sure of, without any doubt, was that he, Lucas van Huuiten, would suffer no one to threaten his son with his father. He himself had lived in mortal fear of his father for the whole of his childhood. Such sentences had promised him a personal hell for several hours.

Ruben made some complaining noises and Lucas leaned his head back to look at him, hoping he was not hungry, all of a sudden. It would be a little while before Katrien would be back.  
_I__ certainly could neither__ feed him nor sing for him  
_The boy squirmed again and squealed softly, restlessly turning his head to and fro.  
_Certainly not such a silly song about sheep and apple trees.  
_Ruben's complaints became a little louder and more demanding.  
"Do not cry, please", Lucas murmured and cupped Ruben's head in his hand. "Please..."

_"...it calms him down."_

The complaints matured into a wail.  
"Hush, please... I cannot sing for you! I do not know any songs... I cannot really sing, you know."  
_Apart from the psalms in the church.  
_Staring straight ahead, Lucas blinked a few times and slowly, lowered his eyes to Ruben's face again. Would it make a difference if it was him or Katrien singing? And would it make a difference if it was a silly song about apple trees or a psalm?  
Lucas cleared his throat, feeling incredibly sheepish.

The wail turned into a scream that wrenched Lucas' heart. He cleared his throat again and closed his eyes.

"I look upon the mountains  
Where will my help come from?  
My help will come from the Lord  
Who made heaven and earth."

Ruben omitted a rather bleak and hopeless sound, but had certainly stopped screaming.

"He will not let you fall; your protector is always awake."

With a deep sigh, Ruben suddenly stopped wailing and opened his eyes, as if listening intently to his father's smooth and clear baritone. Watching him, Lucas couldn't help but smile.

"The protector of Israel  
Never dozes or sleeps  
The Lord will guard you  
He is by your side to protect you  
The sun will not harm you during the day  
Nor the moon during the night."

And at that moment Lucas saw, as he looked at Ruben, that his son had his eyes. Silver grey eyes looked into silver grey eyes for a second before his son yawned and closed his. With his mouth suddenly dry, he had to swallow before he went on.

"The Lord will protect you from all danger  
He will keep you safe."

Lucas hugged the boy a little tighter to his chest and lowered his head so his cheek touched the fine, white, silky hair covering Ruben's head.

"He will protect you as you come and go  
Now and forever.  
Amen."

He did not care anymore whom of the servants might overhear him, or if they should shake their heads and think him foolish for singing to his infant son. Hugging Ruben to his shoulder, Lucas walked over to the window and looked out, but what he saw, before his inner eyes, were the canals and bridges of Utrecht.

"I shall bring you home, Ruben. I promise." Lucas closed his eyes. "You and your mother shall return to Utrecht with me one day. She was an angel, your mother. Maybe she is still with us, with you, to be your guardian angel and protect you. She is no longer here to love you, but never doubt that she still does. But with her not here anymore, there is no one left on earth to love you but me, my son." He looked at Rubens peaceful face again. The boy had fallen asleep in his arms and Lucas felt his heart beat faster as a warm glow spread in his chest. Smiling to himself, he lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on Ruben's forehead.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

To say that de Beer was surprised to hear the governor's voice through the door of his study, singing a psalm, would be slightly understated. He froze in mid-move, his hand hovering an inch away from the door, as the last thing he meant to do was disturb anyone in their prayers, least of all his friend who had only recently suffered such a heavy loss.

He gave himself another two or three minutes after the psalm had ended before he knocked cautiously.

"Yes?"  
"De Beer."  
"Oh. Do come in, Doctor."  
The doctor entered, still moving cautious. He was a bit confused to find the governor stand beside the window, as he seemed to be holding something in his arms.  
Lucas turned around. "Doctor."  
"Governor. You summoned me?"  
"Well, to be perfectly honest, I did not mean to summon you, as such."  
The Doctor smiled as Lucas walked up to him, hiding his surprise at seeing the governor carry the infant in his arms. "You asked me to see you."  
"I did. Forgive me if it gave the impression of having summoned you here. All I wanted was a bit of company and a drink. I remember you telling me I should send for you whenever..." He shrugged.  
"Quite so. I was just a bit surprised. You were never the man to seek much social company."  
"True enough." Lucas cast a glance at Ruben's face. "But when you get used to something..." He looked at de Beer again. "I admit, since Elysande's death, I do feel a bit... alone, now and then."  
"No need for apologizing, Governor." The Doctor smiled. "Why don't you go and give the boy to the women to fuss over him while I ready the board?"  
"I shall." With a nod, Lucas left to head for the nursery and the doctor sat down at the table. With a slight feeling of dismay he realised that the pieces still stood as they had left them the day Elysande had died. He pursed his lips as he arranged the pieces and then, with a decisive movement, turned the board so he had the ivory figures and the governor the ebony ones.

Equipped with a glass of fine brandy each, the men settled down at the board after Lucas had come back.

"I suppose there are no news yet as to the issue with de Baanstedt", the doctor said after a while.  
"No." Lucas contemplated the board. "And by now, I feel not only short-changed, but also ridiculed. I know, or at least, I have the feeling I know, that there is more going on with de Baanstedt, apart from the fact that someone was, and most likely still is, out to kill me."  
"Just do not let your frustration stop you from remaining alert and keeping a cool head", de Beer replied. "Hasty moves are as little of use as doubtful hesitation."  
"Quite so." Lucas leaned back and stared at the reflection of candlelight in his brandy. "But I admit I feel as if someone has pressed me into a game I do not know and is now delighting in my struggle to keep up with rules I cannot fathom."  
De Beer took a sip of his drink. "Do you know then, at least, what moves are available to you?"  
"Koenraad", Lucas said and looked at his friend again. "I d not even know what colour I play, as little as I know whose side I'm on. Most likely, on my own, alone."  
The doctor shot a thoughtful glance at the board. "Wish I could help you there, Lucas."  
Lucas shrugged. "It would not be so bad if I was not so absolutely sure that one false move will kill me."  
The doctor could only nod.


	59. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

Governor van Huuiten stood beside the window of his study, staring out at nothing after having left his office early as he had (again and as so often lately) troubles concentrating on his work. A servant opened the door and announced the arrival of Admiral van Dijk and, mildly surprised, Lucas bade him in.

"Governor van Huuiten." Van Dijk inclined his head a bit. He was, as Lucas realised, wearing a black ribbon tied around his left upper arm.  
"Admiral van Dijk." He inclined his head in return. "Welcome back to the Caribbean. How was your journey?"  
"A bit rough", van Dijk gave back and walked up to him.  
"It does surprise me to see you back so early in the year, admiral."  
"We had an early start, true." The admiral smiled thinly."I wanted to get back, you see. We left mid February."  
"It gladdens my heart you arrived here safely."

Van Dijk gave him a long, silent look. "Governor", he said after a while. "I only just heard. Please, let me express my condolences. That was a harsh blow."  
"Thank you, Admiral." Lucas cast him a glance. "Indeed it was."  
"Have you caught the culprit yet?"  
With a sigh, the governor dropped his arms and turned fully around to face van Dijk. "I have not, Admiral. And I do not even have the faintest idea who it was."  
Van Dijk raised his eyebrows. "Not even a suspect?"  
"I do have a suspect, van Dijk. But just because I suspect him and think him capable of it does not entitle me to have him arrested. I have no proof."  
The admiral pursed his lips. "So what makes you suspect him, then?"  
"The fact that I caught him smuggling and meddling with the trading company's accounts, Admiral."  
"And the fact that you had him... volunteer into becoming the new governor of Nassau, no doubt."  
Van Huuiten did not reply.

"Are you spying on the man?"  
"Of course I am. But the only private letters so far are meaningless correspondence of either family gossip or... confessions towards a woman."  
Van Dijk narrowed his eyes. "Can I have a look at them?"  
The governor blinked. "Why, sure, Admiral. Just why would you want to do so?" He walked over to the table and indicated to the chair for the admiral to sit down.  
"The memory of having gone through my brother's correspondence after his demise", van Dijk said slowly. "I realised well enough that you had all reasons to arrest him, Governor."  
"I still am very sorry that he..."  
The admiral narrowed his eyes. "Had that... tragic accident and broke his neck?"  
"You sound as if you doubt the event to have been an accident, Admiral."  
"Indeed I do, Governor."

The men exchanged a long, silent glance.

"Hand me those letters", van Dijk said then, as if nothing had happened and, deciding that letting van Dijk choose the advance of that particular topic of conversation, van Huuiten went to his desk, opened a drawer and handed the admiral the second of the two letters. Van Dijk unfolded it and began reading through the gossip. While he did so, another knock came from the door and a servant announced Doctor de Beer.

The admiral looked up. "I wasn't aware you were expecting a visitor, Governor. I shall be on my way and come back another time."  
"No no, Admiral", van Huuiten waved at him to remain seated as de Beer closed the door behind him. "Maybe another pair of eyes can help spot what we have failed to see so far."  
"Admiral van Dijk", the doctor said. "I must say I had not expected you before the end of May."  
Van Dijk shot him and the governor a thin smile. "I shamed the captain into attempting an early crossing. If a woman captaining a bunch of pirates can cross in February, surely anyone can, I said to him."

All three of them smiled faintly before the governor told the doctor to take a seat. He himself removed the cello from the third chair in the room, cautiously lowered it down and brought the chair over to the table as well, but did not sit down before he had equipped the three of them with a measure of brandy each.

Van Dijk had, in the meantime, busied himself with the letter again.  
"That does not make much sense now, does it?" He scoffed. "Badly written, at that. Never seen a letter with so many sentences plain wrong. Strange."  
"It is, isn't it." De Beer sipped his drink.  
"No one would write such a letter, short of being as drunk as a sailor when writing it", van Dijk muttered. "Half of the sentences don't even make any sense at all! But what really puzzles me is the introduction." He picked up the first of the sheets and cleared his throat.

"My dear friend, first of all, let me apologize for the long delay in my answer. Every other day now I have to see the doctor and not only has my correspondence suffered from neglect. Secondly, rest assured that you have my heartfelt thanks. The last thing I can afford now is to lose my head and with your help, I am sure I can steer into safe waters again."

"So?" The governor leaned forward. "What puzzles you about it?"  
Van Dijk pursed his lips again. "De Baanstedt says..."  
"Oh, Admiral, forgive me, but I have failed to tell you that this letter was not coming from him but was addressed to him. Needless to say, it did have no sender's name."  
The admiral raised his eyebrows. "Very well. So what puzzles me is that with all that gossip, the writer of this letter does not once mention that severe condition of health again that he complains about."

The three men stared at each other, exchanging silent, questioning glances.

"There's a code in there. There must be a code", van Dijk finally said. "That is not the message, Governor. The real message is in there somewhere. The words you see are not what the true meaning is here."  
"I do not think there is any chance of us finding it if we have no clue where to start", the doctor said thoughtfully.  
Van Dijk took a sip of his brandy. "There must be a code in the introduction."  
"Admiral..." Van Huuiten narrowed his eyes. "What makes you think so?"  
"The style..." Van Dijk narrowed his eyebrows again. "The style of writing is different. The fact that there is a severe sickness mentioned here and never again below."

The doctor took the letter again. "Assuming there is indeed a key to the code in the introduction..." He frowned. "Let's see... It could be that this was sent by someone working for or with de Baanstedt who is in trouble. Lose my head... steer into safe waters..."  
"That's as may be", van Dijk said as he reached for the letter again. "But that is not the key." He stared at the writing. "Firstly... Every other... secondly... the last thing."  
"Admiral?" The governor leaned forward some more, as did the doctor.  
"Positions, gentlemen. Firstly, every other, secondly, last thing."

All three of them stared at the letter again for a while until the governor go up and fetched some sheets, ink and a quill from his desk.

"So it is hidden letters we are looking for?" He dipped the quill in the ink.  
"I am almost sure", the admiral replied. "I've never seen a letter with so many surplus words."  
"Right. And... the words from the introduction give us the key?"  
"They might. Mind you, gentlemen, I could be completely wrong."

Into the silence in the room, the furious thinking of three brains could almost be heard.

"Try as follows", the doctor began. "Every first letter of every other word."  
"And the other two mentioned positions?" The governor leaned over the paper.  
De Beer narrowed his eyes. "Try..." He pursed his lips, as well. "Secondly... the last thing..." He scratched his chin. "The last letter of every second word."  
"If you could dictate, Doctor."  
De Beer placed his fingers onto the letter and read out some letters. He was halfway through the first page before the governor dropped the quill with a shake of his head. "This does not make any sense. Just random letters."  
"Try it again", van Dijk said. "Try the first letter of every other word. Then start again at the beginning, and take the last letter of every second word. Or does it mean the words in between, the ones left out in the first go?"  
"We have to try it out", the doctor gave back with a thoughtful frown.

Van Huuiten picked up the quill. "Go on."

The doctor started again. Both he and van Dijk, however, did not fail to see the changes in the governor's facial expression.  
"Does it make sense now?", van Dijk interrupted.  
"It does. Go on."

"So far, so good", the doctor said after he had reached the end. "I will pick the last letter of every second word, the ones left out in the first round."

Van Huuiten nodded, his eyes glued to the writing before him.

The doctor tapped the sheet again in search for the letters. "So? Does it still..."

"Go on!"

The only sound apart from the doctor's voice was the scribbling of the quill.

"That's it."

"Gentlemen." Van Huuiten picked up the sheet and cleared his throat. "Trouble brewing in wstad hid ledgers h had to hide after last one ten bars of silver twenty barrels of tobacco fifty slaves in usual place for you will await further instructions and payment in usual manner s." He looked up at de Beer and van Dijk. "This is it."  
"Ten bars of silver, twenty barrels of tobacco and fifty slaves must be the load of a ship, Governor", van Dijk said.  
"And wstad is doubtlessly Wilhelmstad", van Huuiten replied thoughtfully. "Only the kind of trouble brewing is hard to understand. But someone hid some ledgers."  
"Smuggling, no doubt", de Beer said. "Someone had a check on someone else's ledgers, or at least meant to."  
"That someone...", the governor said very slowly, "... could have well been me. Not so long ago I ordered one of my clerks to check on one of the merchants as he had failed to produce proper tax documents for the procurement of slaves." He looked up. "Fifty slaves."  
"And?"  
"The ledgers were perfectly all right." He smiled thinly. "The ones my clerk got to see."  
"Do you think 'h' and 's' are persons, governor?", the doctor asked.  
"The merchant whose warehouse and ledgers I had checked was Ewoud Suenens. One of the captains working for him goes by the name of Elias Halkes."  
"And?" Van Dijk raised his eyebrows.

The governor leaned back in his chair. "I have no clues as to the whereabouts of Captain Halkes. I shall enquire. As to the load of a ship that you mentioned... It did occur to me as strange, then, when I checked on Suenens' ledgers, but I couldn't find anything back then so I let the matter drop as coincidence. Because not long before he acquired these slaves, I was informed about the loss of one of the ships of Diederik van de Weyer, another merchant here in Wilhelmstad. One of his ships, the Dorothea, was lost at sea. Probably a pirate, as there had not been a storm during the time she left St Eustatius and her planned arrival in Curacao. Her load, gentlemen: ten bars of silver, twenty barrels of tobacco... and fifty slaves."

"So..." The doctor exchanged a puzzled and worried glance with van Dijk.  
"So", the governor said. "We are not only dealing with smugglers here. It seems like there are privateers stationed in Wilhelmstad who do not only attack ships of the enemy, gentlemen."  
"This is outrageous!" Van Dijk slammed his glass onto the table. "This must go to Amsterdam at once!"  
Van Huuiten smiled a grim smile. "Indeed it will, Admiral. There seems to be a larger web of fraud and treason than I thought. And it has been going on for a long time, as well. For the frauds on the ledgers I discovered in Amsterdam were... surpluses. Not missing money, gentlemen, but surplus money. Unaccounted income. Back then it looked like someone wanted to induce the belief that there was more money available than there actually was. But the money did exist... And this must be where it has been coming from"  
"Unbelievable", the doctor said, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. "But... we seem to have the proof here in writing."

"Speaking of", van Dijk said. "Do you have the other letter here?"  
"Do you think there might be a code, as well?" Van Huuiten went to his desk to fetch it.  
"It is worth, trying, isn't it", van Dijk gave back.  
"It is", Lucas gave back and handed van Dijk the letter as he sat down.

Van Dijk unfolded the letter and cleared his throat. "And that was sent by de Baanstedt?"  
"Yes."  
"Humph."

Van Dijk read the letter with the expression of someone who has been heartily eating an apple and then discovers half a worm peeking out of the core.

"This is bullshit", he finally said. "Pardon my language, gentlemen. By the devil's black hairy arse, there must be a code in there. No one in their right mind, lovesick or no, would write something like that to any woman." He handed the letter back to the Lucas who read it again.

"My dearest of all women,

First things first, otherwise I shall make as much sense as if I was writing backwards. Recently, only a few nights ago, I dreamed of you. Utterly enchanted I was, as in my dream, things happened that made me wake up flushed and fevered. Things that I never would dare to dream of I had been awake. I admit this must sound utterly improper and shameful to you. Believe me, it did so for me. At first I was deeply ashamed, but thinking about it made one thing clear to me: That I love you."

"This as such is nothing..." The doctor began and both the Governor and van Dijk cast him a glance under cocked eyebrows.

"Cherished beloved...", Lucas wet on reading. "... I admit it now, I love you, and if I will ever have the chance to do what happened in my dream, by god, I shall do so. Endless nights did I dream of you, asleep o awake, and in my dreams I felt your lips on mine, felt your hands caress my body, undress me and do unspeakable things to me that I shall never entrust to a letter but only to my heart, in the hopes that you might someday find them there."

Van Dijk snorted. Lucas smiled wryly and went on.

"Needless to say, I thought of things that I could do to your most lovely and graceful body and I dreamed on. Ravished your sweet ruby lips with mine and after that, worshipped your whole, sweet body with my hungry lips. Ecstasy was running through my veins as I was finally granted entry into your holiest of temples. Savouring your honey sweet taste with my tongue made my whole body tremble with lust for you. Sweetest love of mine, how can I make you see how much I love and desire you, oh, how can I make you mine? Already I am wilting, wanting your presence like a flower wilts as it is wanting water and the light of the sun. Please, hear my pleading words and open your heart to the man who loves you more than anything. Yours undyingly faithfully, EdB."

De Beer cleared his throat, van Dijk rolled his eyes and Lucas himself felt as if he had swallowed sour milk.

"I have to admit, that is well concealed. No one would read that twice", van Dijk said. "Read the introduction again."  
Lucas nodded. "First things first, otherwise I shall make as much sense as if I was writing backwards."  
"See, there is our code. First letter again."  
"Doctor, please be so kind..." Lucas handed de Beer the letter and picked up the quill again.  
"Of course." The doctor cleared his throat again and began to read out letters.

Lucas frowned. "Something is wrong. It does not make any sense."  
"So..." De Beer stared at the first paragraph. "First things first. First things first." He scratched his head.  
"Try the first letter of every first word in each sentence", van Dijk suggested after a while.  
"That is going to be a rather short message then", Lucas replied and the doctor agreed but read out the letters.

RUTIBACENRESSAP

Lucas stared at the sheet in disappointment. "It still does not make any sense."  
The doctor looked at the letter again. "First things first, otherwise I shall make as much sense as if I was writing backwards." He smacked his hand against his forehead. "Of course! Write it backwards!"

Lucas did. And as he did so, he realised he was writing Latin. Two words, in fact. Two words in Latin. A simple message, indeed. His hands trembled with rage and a feeling he could not name when he stared at the two words.

"No", he whispered. "God help me..." He slammed his hands on the table. "God help me! NO!" He jumped out of his chair. "To hell with me and my stupid mind! To hell!", he screamed. "God damn it, I had the proof sitting on my desk the whole time!"

Two puzzled pairs of eyes watched his fit of madness and both the doctor and van Dijk got up.

"Curse me, stupid fool that I am!" Trembling with rage, at himself foremost, Lucas paced back and forth, fighting to keep his temper in rein. "How can I... How can I ever... GOD DAMN IT!!" And with these last words, he kicked the nearest object that was available for kicking as hard as he could.

The cello slid across the floor and hit the wall with an agonizing, hollow crashing sound and the strings tore under the impact as the neck snapped and fell off. Ignoring this, Lucas picked up the bow and threw it against the nearest wall where it shattered into pieces.

Both van Dijk and the Doctor reached him that moment and each man grabbed one of Lucas' arms before he could do any more damage in his madness and dragged him bodily towards the divan where van Dijk pressed him down.

Yet the madness had left him as suddenly as it had come, leaving Lucas feel as if he had swallowed a gallon of ice-cold water as bitter as gall and as exhausted as if he had swam a mile or more. With a moan, he buried his face in his hands and felt himself tremble all over. "I must be having a nightmare", he groaned through his fingers. "I could have known it all along. I could have known and prevent it... God, Elysande... Forgive me..."

Van Dijk wordlessly held out a glass of brandy and Lucas took it and downed the contents in one go without moving his face.

Doctor de Beer walked back to the table and looked at the sheet. He couldn't help but shudder himself, and could all too well understand his friend's fit of madness at seeing those words.

PASSER NECABITUR

The sparrow must be killed.


	60. Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

A while after he had sent de Beer and the admiral home, telling them he was all right (which he wasn't, but nevertheless), Lucas laboured out of the divan and walked slowly across the room, lowering himself down onto his knees beside the mutilated cello.

After staring at it for ages, he finally took a deep breath and inspected it closer. He could not even begin to fathom how he could have done something like this. True, the memory of those two words still made his blood run cold, but to fall into such a fit of madness... it scared him. He was scared of himself. How could he lose his control over himself so completely?

Shaking his head, Lucas picked up the board and had a closer look at it, only to realise it was not broken but had fallen off under the impact. It had been fastened to the corpus with a layer of glue and several fine pegs, some of which had snapped and some of which had been torn out of one side or the other so some stuck out of the backside of the board and some out of the corpus. With a sigh of relief he put down the piece of wood again and got up. He would not need a new cello, only a cunning craftsman to re-attach the board. The kick had not damaged the corpus but had barely caused a scratch in the varnish. A new set of strings, and it would be as good as new.

Oh yes... and he would need a new bow, too. But all in all, it could have been worse, he realised as he walked over to the window. He had done no irreparable damage.

Lucas dragged his hands down his face with a deep, drawn out sigh. He had not realised how thin the walls of his soul had become, and how worn out. But he knew that in such a state of mind, mistakes were bound to happen. He could very easily, and any moment, make that one false move in the game that could kill him.

With another sigh, he dropped his hands and stared out of the window, looking past the roofs and streets over the harbour bay and at the horizon. A fresh breeze, coming from the sea, blew into his face and ruffled his hair. He inhaled deeply to calm down, but even as he did it, he realised that the smell of sea and salt in the air had the opposite effect. Because the smell of salt carried with it emotions and memories Lucas found himself unable to suppress. He closed his eyes, but that made it only worse.

He felt curly hair brush his cheek. A pair of lips placed a kiss on the edge of his jaw and a soft, warm breath brushed the skin of his neck, right below the ear. A dark, husky female voice whispered his name.

Gritting his teeth, he closed his fingers around the wooden frame of the window and opened his eyes in the desperate attempt to shake off this haunt that was tormenting him. He was trembling all over.

It was only the wind. Only the wind brushing his skin, only the wind whispering in the leaves of the palm trees growing below the window. But he remained there, his nails digging into the wood beneath his fingers, and he remained there as long as it took him to summon his body under control again, if only faintly. The memory, or imagination, or whatever it was, had not only wreaked havoc with his soul, but also with his body. Ashamed beyond words to express it he remained there, staring out of the window, before he finally dared to turn around again, even though there was no one in the room but him.

For the first time in his life, Lucas understood a monk's concept of self-flagellation to punish the sinful flesh. But he knew, deep down and beyond doubt, that it was not only his body, but also a part of his soul that were dooming him with sinful notions. He sat down again and stared before him into the empty air.

He could yet fail, all too easily, at that. And if so...

He sighed. And if so, then all he could do was pray that his failure would cause him to die in the process. He knew that at one point, his grief would diminish and cease. But he knew beyond doubt that the one thing that would never cease was that feeling he was so desperately fighting right now. He might as well give up. No one could look inside him but he himself, and he knew what was there. And while he knew he would still be the same man once he had left his grief about Elysande behind, he knew that he would not be the same man if he would ever lose his love he still felt for _her_. He wouldn't.  
And he was not sure if he could face living for the rest of his life with the man he would become if he would really lose that love, even if he would never have the woman again.

Coming to this realisation did nothing to ease his soul. But at least he had finally come to accept it, five months after Elysande's tragic death.  
And one year and some nine months after their last kiss.

_"I will never be gone completely. Believe me."_

"And I do not want you to", he whispered, looking at the cello with a sad smile and a weeping heart.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Weeks later there was still no news, no new letter, no new hints, nothing whatsoever that brought Lucas any closer to getting his hands on de Baanstedt. He knew beyond doubt that he was not also responsible for the attacks on him and Elysande's death, but also involved in high treason and treachery, but two coded letters were no proof. De Baanstedt would simply say he had made it up to harm him and his reputation.

Knowing who had been responsible and knowing, as well, that he had nothing in his hands against him had, understandably, not improved Lucas' sleep in any way. Only this morning, while shaving, had he realised that the face looking at him from the mirror seemed to belong to a man twice his age.  
Was this what grief and craving for revenge did to a man? Turning him into a vile, old, thin-lipped miser?

Lucas stared out of the window of his office, pondering these grim thoughts with an even grimmer face. But these thoughts did not stop him from wanting his revenge. The thought of bringing her murderer to justice was sometimes the only thing that still kept him going.

A servant broke his spell of thoughts and announced Admiral van Dijk. A bit surprised, Lucas nodded and folded his hands behind his back as the admiral entered.

"Governor", van Dijk said and bowed his head.  
"Admiral van Dijk." He returned the gesture. "What is it I can do for you?"  
Van Dijk looked him over. "Nothing, really. I came to enquire if there had been any news yet."  
"Indeed not, Admiral." Lucas cast him a glance. "If you forgive me my bluntness, but what is it that interests you personally in this case?"  
The admiral shrugged. "I want to know what my brother really had gotten himself into. Smuggling, by god, not really becoming but a widely spread past time of men in higher standing who do not really need the money. But high treason, Governor? I have an interest in that, believe me, and not only due to the fact that I am Wilhelm's loyal subject. I intend to make it absolutely clear that my brother was acting alone. I have problems keeping my family's name clean, as it is."  
"I do understand, Admiral." Lucas looked at him again. "I am sorry to inform you that no news has reached me yet, whatsoever. I begin to suspect that either, there is a spy in my own house and de Baanstedt knows by now that I am spying on his correspondence, or that my spy has been exposed and killed. Most likely both."

The admiral frowned. "It is more than stretching the law to its limits to have someone arrested on account of two coded letters." He crossed his arms. "We need more proof to let justice run its course, Governor."  
Lucas did not reply as he stared out of the window.  
"I can imagine how frustrating it is..." the admiral began and Lucas faced him again.  
"Frustrating." He shrugged. "Frustrating is a very mild word, if I may say so, to use in this context. Not being able to avenge the death of your wife... frustrating, indeed."  
Van Dijk slowly inclined his head and raised his eyebrows.  
"There is more than the way of the law to reach a goal of justice", Lucas went on thoughtfully. "And sometimes, I feel I..."  
"Governor", van Dijk interrupted him and Lucas turned around to face him again. "Revenge is not justice, and you know it. Revenge only sires more revenge. It will not bring anything to rest, as little as it can undo former injustice. Simply killing de Baanstedt is nothing but answering a murder with a murder."

Lucas took a deep breath. "It seems a bit strange, Admiral, that you as a man of war should say these words."  
"A man of war I may be", van Dijk gave back. "But I have seen one man being destroyed by his senseless craving for revenge."  
Facing the admiral again, Lucas slowly tilted his head.  
"I will tell you, Governor, how revenge and counter-revenge do nothing but injustice. You are aware that my brother was widowed, too."  
"I am."  
"Very well. But are you aware of how that came to be?"  
"No."  
"She was bound for Curacao on a ship coming from Amsterdam, following her husband into his new position here. But the ship ran into a pirate, only shortly before it would have reached the safe harbour in Wilhelmstad. It was not sunk, but it was attacked and suffered a broadside before the captain realised that attempting to flee was useless and hoisted the white flag. The ship was no trader, Governor; she carried only emigrants bound for the new world. The pirates had, of course, not known this and only scrounged a few provisions before letting the ship go. She made it into the harbour of Wilhelmstad, but barely. A fire had broken out in the lower hull during the attack, and almost a third of the poor people trapped down there had perished in the flames."  
"Your brother's wife among them."  
Van Dijk nodded with a dark look in his eyes. "He was very fond of her. He had spent endless amounts of both time and words to have both our and her family agree to the union. She wasn't of very high breeding, you know." He cleared his throat. "He went into a raging madness that lasted for weeks."

He avoided Lucas' eyes who, in turn, stared out of the window with his usual stony mask.

"He swore revenge on the pirate who did it, and from that day on, fought his own, private crusade against pirates in general and one pirate in particular. For the ship that had attacked the Artemis had a rather distinctive feature." He made a significant pause. "Black sails."  
Inhaling sharply, Lucas blinked and turned around to face van Dijk again.  
The admiral smiled thinly. "Indeed, you have heard all right. The pirate attacking the ship was none other than the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow."  
"So this is..." Lucas could only shake his head. "Most likely. Arminius spent the rest of his life and most of his fortune to hunt pirates, and to hunt one pirate in particular. He wanted revenge. He wanted his revenge so much, in fact, that he did not hesitate to exert it on someone who was completely blameless, after the man whom he blamed was dead."  
"His daughter."  
Van Dijk nodded slowly. "Sparrow killed his woman, even if it was unintentionally. She was burned alive, so he tried to take his revenge by flogging his daughter to death."

Both men silently looked at each other for a few moments.

"He took revenge. And it was answered by revenge, Governor. I can prove nothing, but if there is one thing I know beyond doubt of my brother, then the fact that he did not drink. Never did he have more than a tiny measure of brandy the occasional night for medicinal purposes to help him sleep. He loathed drinking, and there is no reason whatsoever for him to suddenly get so drunk as to fall from a balcony. A balcony with a very sturdy and, I might add, fairly new banister."

Lucas did not reply.

"Someone made him drunk, to have him fall", van Dijk said slowly. "Or someone simply pushed him and made it only look as if he was drunk. My brother had no accident, Governor, he was murdered. And even if I have a suspect, I can prove nothing and so, I shall do nothing. I cannot blame my brother for useless notions of revenge and make the same mistake as he himself did."

"I am not too sure what I shall now make of your words, Admiral van Dijk", Lucas said after a rather long pause. "All the facts I had spoke of an accident."  
"And did you have all the facts?"  
"And how am I supposed to know I am missing something that I do not know exists?"  
Van Dijk exhaled forcefully. "Of course, Governor. But all in all, even if my brother was maddened and, to be honest, not very bright to begin with, may his soul forgive me, I shall not excuse his actions. They were wrong. A father's deeds are not a son's fault. Or a daughter's, for that matter. But what I really meant to say is, Governor, that revenge only sires revenge. I said that earlier, and I hope I have given this some more meaning. It will not make you sleep any better, if I have ever known you the slightest bit."

Lucas took another deep breath.

"Let justice run its course, Governor. Use the laws and not a blood feud to put your wife's soul to rest. And your own."  
"Laws..." Lucas gave back with a bitter edge in his voice. "Laws, Admiral, are like cobwebs. They catch small flies but let wasps and hornets break through."  
"Well in that case, Governor, you can either waste your time in swatting at them and risk being stung." Then he looked up, holding Lucas' gaze in his, and went on with another thin, grim smile. "Or you can get yourself a bigger spider."  
Lucas slowly narrowed his eyes."Is there a particular creature you might be referring to, Admiral?"  
Still smiling, van Dijk didn't reply.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

"Captain Sparrow." The governor indicated towards the seat and leaned back in his chair. "You doubtlessly wonder why I summoned you."  
Imogen sat down. "Indeed I do, sir."  
The governor folded his hands and gave her a long, assessing look, and not for the first time Imogen realised how tired and worn he looked. The last months had aged him far beyond his years, and this was enhanced by the black clothes he was wearing. "Admiral van Dijk and I have devised a plan that might get the culprit into our hands, Captain."  
"And what does that have to do with me?"

The admiral and the governor exchanged a long glance.

"We need a decoy, Captain", the governor finally said. "And we thought since you have a personal interest, too, in bringing him and his accomplices to justice, we thought you the most capable and the most trustworthy."  
"Personal interest?" Imogen slowly crossed her arms. "And what makes you..."  
"Captain", the governor interrupted her and leaned forward, seeking her eyes and holding her gaze. "I have heard rumours as to... an oath you have given to a boy whose mother was killed saving your life."  
Imogen did not reply as she stared at the governor with a stony face.  
"And this is why I assumed you would, Captain", he went on, a small and not at all friendly smile on his face. "You are simply the best man to do the job."

Imogen did not move a single muscle, still holding his gaze.

"Captain Sparrow", the admiral now broke in. "We are laying out a snare, hoping that we catch the prey we are after. But we need a stalker. Someone with a swift and stealthy move to strike in an unexpected way..." He took a few steps forward. "And in unexpected locations."  
Imogen narrowed her eyes as she looked at van Dijk. "So?"  
"So. It seems that you are, indeed, the most suitable choice."  
"And what, if I may be so bold to ask, makes you so sure of it?" Something in the way he looked at her was slightly unsettling. Imogen watched him come closer and slowly rose out of the chair. "Admiral?"  
"Captain Sparrow", the admiral said as he halted before her. "I can prove nothing. But even if I cannot, then all facts that I know leave no other options as to the conclusion that my brother's death was no accident."

Imogen crossed her arms.

"And furthermore, in knowing it was no accident, there is only one possible suspect." He slowly unsheathed his sabre. "I made an oath; even if I have to admit today it was rather rash and badly thought through, with knowing what I know now and did not know then. I swore that I will have the blood of my brother's murderer on my blade." He slowly brought the blade up until the tip rested directly under Imogen's chin.

Holding his gaze, Imogen slowly let her arms sink but did not reply. She simply thrust out her chin and saw, from the corner of her eye, that the governor slowly got up from his chair as well.

"Revenge is a fine dish if it is savoured cold and fresh. But consumed stale and old, it brings no pleasure. It serves nothing. But an oath is an oath, Captain." He flicked his wrist, but even as both Imogen and the governor flinched, he brought the sabre back to inspect the tip of the blade. He had barely nicked her skin, just about enough to draw blood. A fine trickle ran down Imogen's neck and van Dijk took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blade clean. "I'd dare say this does suffice", he muttered and, without any trace of emotion in his face, handed the handkerchief to Imogen who took it and dabbed the blood away from her skin, and the drop of sweat that was running down her temple.

"If we are bound to forgive an enemy, we are not bound to trust him", Van Dijk said looking neither at the governor nor at Imogen. Then he sheathed his sabre with one decisive movement and did look at her. "I admit that it will cause me no grief would you find your death on that mission. But you doubtlessly are the best man for the job, and despite everything else, I shall put my trust in you." He narrowed his eyes. "You better succeed, Captain."

Imogen took another breath, exchanged a quick glance with the governor and crossed her arms again. "What would you have me do, gentlemen?"

* * *

_Laws are like cobwebs, which may catch small flies but let wasps and hornets break trough._ Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) 

_If we are bound to forgive an enemy, we are not bound to trust him._ Thomas Fuller (1608-1661)


	61. Chapter 59

**Chapter 59**

The governor and the admiral exchanged a long glance after Imogen had left them.

"I won't say a word, governor."  
"I have not asked you to, Admiral."  
"Well, whatever else she might or might not be, a coward she certainly isn't." Van Dijk cleared his throat.

They stared at the door.

"Was that really necessary, Admiral?"  
Van Dijk narrowed his eyes and looked at the governor. "You disagree?"  
The governor shrugged. "So far, she has done her duties without being taken into military orders, Admiral."  
"She has the rank of a Luitenant."  
"Quite so."

Another long silence followed.

"I cannot say I am able to fathom your reasons, Admiral."  
"Beyond other things, I thought it wise that she learns what it really means to have a rank, Governor. Not only the honour, but also the duty."  
"I on my part have never doubted her ability to do her duty, Admiral."  
"Doing your duty and following your orders are not always necessarily the same, Governor."  
"But why the orders?"  
Van Dijk sighed and crossed his hands behind his back. "Because I am in charge of that particular mission, Governor. I want to make it absolutely clear that it was Admiral van Dijk who got his hands on the smugglers and assassinating traitors. Me and no one else. Otherwise, van Huuiten, I will never be able to cleanse the name of my family from the notion of smuggling or treason. "  
"I understand."

Both men were silent yet again, for quite a while.

"There should be a law against women wearing breeches", the admiral finally said.  
The governor did not reply.  
"By god, I could see the crack of her arse! Shameless is what it is."  
The governor still did not reply.  
"She might as well wear nothing below her belt."  
When the governor still failed to comment, the admiral shot him a cautious look. He was staring at the door through which Imogen had departed with a face that betrayed nothing whatsoever.

"Governor?"  
"Admiral."  
"Something wrong?"  
"What on earth should be wrong, Admiral?"  
Van Dijk cleared his throat. "Nothing, Governor. Maybe the uniform was a little bit... overdoing things."  
"Admiral van Dijk", the governor said. "I can only agree with you on that."

Both men stared at the door again.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

A few days later, a ship called Isabell left the harbour of Wilhelmstad with the cargo of twenty barrels of tobacco and twenty bars of silver. That was at least what the papers of the ship said it carried. Wares that were easily concealed and sold once acquired by someone who never had any intention to pay for them. She left Curacao with the early morning tide, bound north, heading for the Windward Passage and from there north and east to Europe.

At the wheel of the Isabell stood Kapiteen Diederik van de Weyer himself. There was a passenger, too. A young naval officer by the name of Luitenant Ivo Maximiliaan Spener.

If all had gone according to plan, no one had seen the crew of the Isabell unload the ship again the night before she left the harbour. And thus, hopefully, no one had seen what had been taken on board instead.

The snare had been laid out.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Imogen stood at the bow and stared into the waves parting under the keel of the Isabell and tried to inconspicuously shift her shoulders. The uniform coat was stiff and uncomfortable and it was beyond her how anyone could wear something like that for a lifetime.

And she certainly hadn't blamed Niels as he had burst out laughing when she had come back to the harbour after her meeting with the governor and the admiral. She felt like an idiot. She probably looked like one.

It was beyond her why the governor and the admiral had insisted she took on this mission as an officer according to the rank she had earned. Truth to be told, she had never given her rank as such any thought beyond the fact that it gave her a name in society. But what it also did, and only now had she realised it, was that it enabled Admiral van Dijk to give her orders.

Not that he had ordered her. Not in so many words, at least. Well, he had ordered her to go to the garrison fort and have the quartermaster equip her and to come back afterwards. After that, he had only made it absolutely clear that he was in charge of that mission, and Imogen had, once again, taken orders she didn't really fancy to take and had set off to choose the most trustworthy men of both her crews and instruct them as to what was going to happen. She could only pray they had not been discovered or given away. Otherwise all this would be in vain, and likely, would never work at all and she would have to think of something else. And it had been hard enough to come up with this particular plan.

Imogen resisted the urge to scratch her backside. The white uniform breeches were uncomfortably tight. How a man could suffer an item of wardrobe like that was a mystery to her.

She shifted her shoulders again and straightened up some more. She was supposed to be a man, so she might as well act like one. With a slow, deliberate movement, she scratched her crotch, around the little bulge she normally wouldn't have there and which she had faked in deploying the help of a fistful of rags stuffed into a tobacco pouch.

With a sigh, she adjusted her hat on the wig that hid her hair. Looking down at herself again, Imogen cursed van Dijk towards the end of the world and beyond for having her run around like that. Most likely, her crew would never take her serious again after seeing her like this.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Two days after the Isabell had left the harbour of Wilhelmstad the man in the crow's nest announced a sail at the horizon coming for them. Imogen took out her spy glass, but who or whatever it might be was still too far away to make out any details. Around her on deck, the crew prepared themselves, their nerves growing more and more taut with every passing minute.

After the sails were visible to the eye, Imogen employed her spy glass again and saw it the same moment the man in the crow's nest announced it: A Jolly Roger.

It was a brigantine, she saw. The Isabell herself was a barque, not as small a barque as the Albatross had been but with one mast more, but still smaller than the pirate vessel coming for them. With a sigh, Imogen stowed her spy glass away and checked her pistols. She could only pray that this wasn't some random pirate but one of the men they wanted.

The brigantine was sailing under full canvas and due to the fact she was coming from the east, was running directly before the wind, as opposed to the Isabell, they were going north and had to cross before the wind. And thus it took the pirates practically no time to catch up with them, and as soon as the brigantine was within shooting range, van de Weyer gave the order to hoist the white flag.

The brigantine cruised around them in a full circle once, like a wolf prowling around a piece of carcass, as if to make sure it was really dead or on their case, to see if they would really give up without a fight.

When no salvo fell, the pirate ship cruised in alongside the Isabell and with all her crew laying down their arms and stand on deck with slightly raised hands, no shot fell either as the pirates boarded the merchant vessel with brandished weapons, screams and howls of triumph. None of the pirates realised, or if they did, thought it odd, that the four latches on deck leading below were open. All four of them.

Imogen stood behind van de Weyer who held the helm and watched the ongoings on deck.  
"I think now would be the opportune moment, Luitenant", van de Weyer whispered as almost the complete pirate crew had assembled on the Isabell.  
She nodded and slowly stepped beside him, looking down on deck.

"Oy!" The pirate captain cocked his pistol and pointed it into her direction. "Soldier boy! No false move!"

Imogen slowly lifted her arms and hands. Likewise slowly, she brought them together in front of her face. The pirate gave her a mistrustful look, but lowered his pistol.

It took Imogen less than a second to bring her fingers to her mouth and before the pirate could move again, she had emitted a loud, screeching and eardrum-battering whistle.

And at that, all hell broke loose on deck, for the men of Imogen's crew had known the signal and now poured, cocked pistols at the ready, out of all four latches like a flood of doom. Completely taken aback, the pirates had already suffered heavy losses before they could even rally themselves and fight back. And still more men climbed up from below to join the fighting, meeting up with their comrades, the crew of the Isabell who had picked up their dropped weapons again and the men from the pirate crew who had stayed on the ship and now joined the fighting.

But with surprise having been on their side, the fight was over within minutes and without any losses. The pirates, dazzled, speechless and confused, all wandered into the brigg of the Isabell and Imogen's men took over the brigantine to sail her back to Wilhelmstad with Niels at the helm.

Imogen tried to look at none of her men. She was sure they sniggered. And she didn't blame them. With a black mood surrounding her like her own small little black cloud of thunderstorm, she gave the order to head back for Wilhelmstad. The sooner she got this over with, the better.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Imogen hit Wilhelmstad again five days after she had left. She was incredibly relieved to have this over with, for several reasons, and only one (but the major one) being that silly, uncomfortable uniform. But deciding that she would let no one have any kind of lever against her, she did everything according to the rules and dusted off her boots, straightened her coat, adjusted her sabre, her hat and the little tobacco pouch before she left the Isabell, leading the pirate captain walking behind her in shackles, led like a dog on his chains.

A couple of soldiers had awaited her on the pier and now flanked her as she walked briskly towards the governor's residence.

She entered the office alone at first, removed her hat with a flourish and saluted as smartly as she could before straightening up again and looking squarely at the governor in his chair. "Governor van Huuiten." She repeated the salute, as only now had she seen the admiral standing beside the window. "Admiral van Dijk."  
He flashed her a thin smile. "Luitenant", the admiral said.  
"Captain Sparrow", said the governor.  
Imogen looked back and forth between the two. "Whom do I have to report to?"  
"The both of us, Captain, if you would", the governor replied and Imogen nodded.  
"We encountered a pirate on our way, on the second day, to be precise. The plan worked fine, we suffered no losses on our side, and I have brought the pirate captain with me. He is waiting outside." Then she narrowed her eyes as she had suddenly noticed that both men were not looking at her face, precisely. She cleared her throat rather pointedly. "Tobacco pouch", she said.

Both men jerked their heads upward and looked at her.

"Shall I bring him in?", she asked and realised that there was the faintest reddish tint on the cheekbones of the governor's stony, unmoving face.  
"If you would, Captain."  
Imogen saluted again and tried to hide a grin. Sometimes, it was just too easy to confuse men. Any man. Grabbing the chain that was attached to the pirate captain's collar, she dragged the man with her and into the governor's office.  
"The pirate captain." And how long ago was it that it had been her, the pirate shackled in chains? Somewhat more than two years, to be sure. What a strange world, and what a strange life she had been leading. She looked down at herself. _Say that twice and __ye're__ only half true._

The governor inclined his head and shifted his eyes towards the man standing beside her. His eyes widened at first, then he narrowed them and slowly folded his hands. "Very well." He nodded at Imogen. "Good work, Captain Sparrow. This is all for now."  
"You are dismissed", van Dijk added. "Consider yourself off duty."  
Imogen bowed again. "Aye, Admiral."

The admiral only inclined his head and Imogen swept her hat back on and left. Before she closed the door, however, she could hear the governor address the pirate.

"Why, Captain Halkes, fancy we should meet again under such strange circumstances."


	62. Chapter 60

**Chapter 60**

The pieces were slowly starting to fall into place.

After being caught red-handed, Elias Halkes had confessed everything, from smuggling to attacking Dutch ships on his ventures as a privateer, very obviously in the attempt that doing so might save his neck and would only get him into jail. But in this, the governor had no authority as it was clear from the beginning that the whole case, all culprits and all proofs, suspicions and hints would go to a court in Amsterdam.

The next item on the list was Ewoud Suenens. This time, however, the clerks came without announcing themselves first, and they came with a dozen of armed guards in attendance. Lucas himself was part of the party that went there, he and three of his best clerks, determined to find what so far they only thought would be there.

Suenens, understandably, proved to be quite nervous as twelve soldiers, the governor and three of his clerks suddenly appeared on his doorstep.

"Oh my, Governor, what is it that I can help you with?" He was a little pale, but then, probably anyone would be at finding highest authorities and guards knocking at their door, bad conscience or no.  
"By providing me with some information, Master Suenens, and letting me have a look at your ledgers again. There is a matter of..." Lucas frowned thoughtfully. "A matter of an outrageous accusation hanging in the air like the threatening blade of Damocles. And I am sure, once we have had a closer look, these claims can be treated as what they are: Pointless accusations." He smiled politely. He was good at smiling politely. He could smile as politely as a cat does seconds before it claws the skin on your hand into shreds.  
Suenens tried a smile in return, but it looked rather strained and uncomfortable. "Of course, Governor... please, do come in."

Some of the guards spread around the house to hinder anyone from leaving and the rest followed the governor and the clerks inside.

"Can I offer you a glass of something... or a cup of tea?" Suenens' strained grin was accompanied by a few beads of sweat on his forehead.  
Declining politely, Lucas asked Suenens to lead the way and followed the sweating merchant into his office.  
"There are my ledgers, Governor", Suenens said. "I am sure you will find them to your satisfaction. Can I ask, maybe, what has caused this... ehm... unexpected visit?"  
"As I said, Master Suenens, just the necessity of following the rules laid down by the law. You have been accused by a, I might say, low subject who claims to be working for you. All I want is to make sure that I can lay the matter to rest, all according to the law."  
"By all means, Governor."

Lucas waved at the clerks who started to check through the entries.

"In the meantime", Lucas began and had a look around. "In the meantime, Master Suenens, would you be so kind as to refresh my memory?"  
"If ever I can." Suenens took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow. The man was a terrible liar.  
"How many ships is it you have?"  
"Two, Governor." He straightened up somewhat.  
"If you would help me out as to the names of the Captains?"  
His nose twitched. He looked, for all that's worth, like a nervous rabbit. "Well, the Texel is captained by..." He cleared his throat. "...by Hubrecht Oosterhuis. The Athena sails under the command of Elias Halkes."  
"Oh." Lucas stared past the merchant out of the window. "So he is working for you, after all." He cast his eyes back to Suenens who had visibly paled.  
"Gov... Governor?"  
"Elias Halkes, Master Suenens, is the one who accused you of... let us say, illegal activities."  
"Why, that rotten, good-for-nothing little..." Suenens cleared his throat. "That's what you get for taking care of your..."  
"Halkes was caught red-handed in piracy", Lucas interrupted him rather coldly. "And he claimed that him attacking Dutch ships is an arrangement that has been standing between you and him for several years now."  
Suenens gasped for air and now, looked like a stranded fish what with his mouth closing and opening without any sound coming out. "This..." He finally found his speech back. "This is... outrageous! Governor, I do hope you don't believe all that..."  
Lucas did not reply at first. He slowly turned around again to face Suenens who was by now sweating bullets. "As of yet, I do believe nothing either way or another", he said then. "That is why I am here. Because I shall neither believe any accusations nor any excuses without having familiarised myself with the facts." He raised his eyebrows. "With all the facts, Master Suenens."

Suenens pressed his lips together, but Lucas didn't say any more and walked over to the clerks who still had their noses in the ledgers.

"Nothing here, Governor", one of them said. "The books are correct, as it seems. I haven't gone back very far yet, but it looks all right."  
"As I said", Suenens fell in. "There is nothing..."  
"If I remember correctly, you have not said anything yet, Master Suenens, apart from insulting Halkes." Lucas narrowed his eyes and then, moved his gaze to the soldiers. "Search the house."  
"Governor!"  
"Master Suenens. If your ledgers are all right and you have nothing else to hide, then surely, you can only stand aside with the smile of the righteous and watch my men going on their futile search?"  
Suenens blinked and pressed his jaws together but did not answer.

The guards that Lucas had chosen were not for the first time on a mission like that. Experienced in searching houses, they had also experience in finding hidden compartments, secret drawers and concealed niches in walls where anything could be hidden. Needless to say, however, that the process was a little bit destructive, now and then. But in the end, Captain Verhoeven came back upstairs with three large ledgers on his arms. "We found those in the stores downstairs, under the floorboards beneath the desk."  
"Very good." Lucas cast a glance at Suenens whose face had drained of all colour. "So what do we have here?" He took one of the ledgers and opened it, flicking his eyes over the rows and columns of numbers and posts and admitted to himself it was rather satisfying not to be dependent on clerks to have the meanings of this explained to him."Now, Master Suenens, I would liked to have assumed that these are old ledgers, out of use, yet if they are, then I fail to see how you still have only two ships and are not the richest man in the Caribbean Sea and beyond." He frowned slightly. "There is only income in these ledgers. Can you..." He looked at Suenens. "Can you elaborate this?" Lucas expectantly raised his eyebrows.

Suenens failed to reply.

In the end, less than an hour later, Suenens was arrested as being suspected of smuggling and high treason.

The question remained where Suenens and Halkes had their information from as to which ships to attack, and when. That, however, left only one possible option: That there was another man involved in the complot, and that he had to be working in the harbour bureaux. He did not need to press Suenens with any questions to come to that particular conclusion.

So, after taking Suenens into custody, Lucas went to see the harbourmaster, Verhoeven and his men again in attendance.

The harbourmaster greeted him friendly. "What is it I can do for you, Governor?"  
"Oh, only a simple thing, really, harbourmaster. I shall need a list of all the ships that have left Curacao and have never reached their destination. For, say, the last four or five years."  
"Of course. Can I ask what for?"  
Had the man paled or had he not? Narrowing his eyes, Lucas tried to determine if he was just upset by the additional duty or just a slightly better liar than Suenens. "I have accusations of smuggling on my desk, harbourmaster, and I have to check all loads gone out and in against Suenens' ledgers."  
"Suenens? Holy god... I would never think him capable of any of that!" The harbourmaster shook his head in what seemed honest bafflement. He was a better liar. But Lucas had the better perception. You do not get very far in diplomacy without being able to tell when someone is lying.

"I shall get my clerks to ready the lists for you, Governor. How urgent is it?"  
"It is of utmost urgency, harbourmaster. You can imagine that I want to have these claims off my desk, and I do not want to have an innocent man imprisoned longer than necessary."  
"Of course, of course. I shall see you in a few hours, and bring the lists with me."  
Lucas inclined his head with his usual, polite smile. The harbourmaster bowed and Lucas headed for the door. Before he opened it, though, he saw the harbourmaster leave the entrance hallway and head into an office, from which he emerged, his arms full of paper, and head for a staircase... leading down.

"Odd." Verhoeven frowned. "Where is he going with the stuff?"  
"Follow him", Lucas said to Verhoeven and the captain nodded, beckoned two men to follow him in turn and the three of them silently walked down the corridor to see where Harbourmaster Malthe would be going so hastily.

They emerged back upstairs again somewhat later, dragging the wailing and begging harbourmaster with them."He was burning the documents, Governor", Verhoeven said. "In what seemed like haste did he stuff them into a fireplace. I am afraid we came too late to save anything."  
"I am innocent!" Malthe squirmed between the two guards. "Its' not my fault! I have been blackmailed! They wanted to harm my family! I am innocent!"  
Lucas ignored him. "He has burned the whole lot of them?"Verhoeven nodded with an unhappy expression.  
"Well, at least we know now whom Suenens got his information from." He looked at Malthe again. "Rest assured that an innocent, blackmailed man has nothing to fear from neither me nor the laws, Harbourmaster. I shall look into the case, and deeply, trust me on that."

Then he turned around and beckoned the guards to follow them. He could have cursed, but ashes are ashes.

"Governor?" A clerk poked his head out of the office Malthe had taken the papers from.  
Lucas stopped and the clerk walked over, his arm full of papers. He had, Lucas noticed, an ink stain on his left cheek. "Yes?"  
"Governor." He lost one sheet, stooped to pick it up, lost three more, grabbled for those, yet before he could lose them all and end up in a flurry of paper, Lucas himself quickly bend down and picked the fallen papers up.  
"What is it?" He really had no time whatsoever for any addled clerk with ink blotches in his face.  
"I overheard your request earlier... about the..." He frowned. "About the missing list. Ships. About the list of the missing ships."  
"The ones that harbourmaster Malthe has destroyed." Forcing to keep himself under control, Lucas raised his eyebrows. "So?"  
"I have copies here of the..." He adjusted the heap of papers on his arms and Lucas hastily grabbed for a few on the top that were about to slide down. "The... reports, sir. The initial reports of losses..." Lucas tilted his head very slowly and the clerk tried to smile while also trying to hold on to the heap of papers. "I... I could probably do a new list from them, Governor." He grinned, straightened up, and the whole heap of paper started to slowly tilt over. "I..." He tried to balance it, but that only send the whole pile falling into the other direction and it they finally dispersed into a cloud of sheets and slid all over the floor. He grinned desperately and embarrassedly at Lucas who sighed.

"Very well. Good work..." He raised his eyebrows again questioningly.  
The clerk grinned, and only after a few seconds understanding dawned in his face. "Bruun. Quirijn Bruun."  
"Good work, Quirijn Bruun. I shall eagerly await that report."  
Bruun grinned again and bowed and, while he was there, started to pick up his sheets.

Shaking his head, Lucas left the young man to his papers.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Surprisingly enough, Bruun was far more efficient in handling his papers and producing the reports than Lucas had initially thought. A blessing and a half, truly, that the young clerk had meticulously copied every document coming over his desk. That way, the harbourmaster had burned the originals, but copies of those had been piled up in Bruun's office without him even knowing, unaware as he had been of the efficiency and the meticulousness of his young clerk. Why on earth Bruun would have done so remained a mystery, but Lucas would not question his good luck.

For the next two weeks, he himself systematically interrogated Halkes, Suenens and Malthe again and again to exert all the information out of them he possibly could while several of his clerks went through Suenens' hidden ledgers and cross-checked them against the list of missing ships and their wares.

Needless to say, about three quarters of the Dutch ships lost to pirates in the last couple of years had, in fact, not been lost to pirates at all. Too bad that Bruun had only been working in the harbour offices for a few years, so there were no documents preserved older than from the time he had begun copying them, but even what they had now was enough to sentence every single man involved three times to death for treason.

Lucas sorted the reports from his clerks, together with the evidence of the ledgers and the lists of the missing ships and their loads to one side on his desk and now took out the accounts of Malthe, Halkes and Suenens to read through them again.

Malthe had been the one providing the information as to the ships leaving the harbour and the wares they carried to Suenens and one more merchant in Wilhelmstad.  
Suenens and Teerstegen, the other man, had been alternately responsible for picking up the spoils, and both their ledgers had been checked and were now lying on the governor's desk, waiting to be packed up and shipped to Amsterdam.  
Halkes had been of little use. He was just the man to do their dirty work. Most likely, he would only hang as a pirate.

But both men, Suenens and Teerstegen, had independently said that they were only part of a larger circle of men, not knowing who else was involved in other places but only knowing that there were more. Asked how they knew that, they had, again independently, said that they had been told this by de Baanstedt who had approached them and lured them with the prospects of wealth and quick and easy money.

That was what they claimed. But both men having said that, and they both had no chance any more to converse with each other after their arrest, and both men agreeing on it, it truly seemed as if de Baanstedt was the head of the organisation. Most likely, he was, in turn, working for someone back home and only acting as a head in the Caribbean.

But with the pieces falling into place, the noose around de Baanstedt's neck tightened slowly, but inevitably. Because now, Lucas had enough proof on is hands to at least have the man arrested. After that, all evidence and all suspects would have to go to Amsterdam, leaving him only with the hope that justice would run its course and there were no men involved so high in standing that the whole case would be dropped and forgotten rather quickly. Things like that had happened before.

Came the twenty-ninth of May, a ship set out to Nassau to question and arrest Nassau's governor, carrying a replacement. A true volunteer this time, not someone forced to go there.

Lucas watched the ship leave the harbour, carrying a large troupe in case de Baanstedt should decide to resist, and Admiral van Dijk who had, understandably, insisted on leading the mission and arresting de Baanstedt himself.

Which now left him, Lucas van Huuiten, with nothing else to do but wait. Wait for van Dijk to come back. And then, far worse, wait for news to come back from Amsterdam. Of course, one mail runner was already on his way there with the first letters to introduce the case. Hopefully, things would be prepared by the time that van Dijk, together with the suspects and the proofs, would arrive there.

Hopefully, the court would not take months and months to speak a verdict. If he was lucky, news would come back to him before winter, before shipping lanes across the Atlantic were impassable for several months.  
And beyond that... he had no clue. He had not planned beyond the day when news of de Baanstedt's death would reach him. If it would reach him at all.

With a heavy sigh, Lucas turned his back to the window and walked back to his desk to busy himself with the new pile of mail, arrived today, that Herman had dropped off on his desk.


	63. Chapter 61

**Chapter 61**

Having to command two ships had been a challenge. Having three, Imogen discovered, was only slightly more demanding once used to having a convoy. But, she had to admit, sailing a convoy like the one she had now, consisting of the Dusky Hawk, the Windhunter and the Athena, formerly Captain Halkes' ship, was hideously expensive. She would need a very good and profitable venture so get the money back she had invested in getting together the crew for the Athena. Halkes' men had, understandably, all been hanged as pirates. All of them had willingly attacked their own ships.

But with three ships, a profitable venture was far less dependent on luck, on the other hand. And thus, Imogen had this time not made her course north for the English shipping lanes but south, for the Spanish ones in the hopes of meeting one of the transports that carried silver from Terra Firma back to Spain.  
Usually, these transports were huge convoys, several galleons of war flanking several heavily armed merchantmen loaded with the precious cargo. But maybe there was a chance for her to pick some spoils. If luck was with her.

A few days after she had set off, they ran into a storm-front, and even as Imogen thought that luck was not with her whatsoever, the man in the crow's nest announced sails at the horizon, a single ship.

Flanked by the two brigantines, Imogen changed her course south east, a difficult undertaking as the rising waves and the heavy winds were now against them. But still, even with sailing becoming more difficult, Imogen knew that it meant they were running into the storm, not away from it, and thus, that the ship in front of them was coming from the centre of the storm.

She was. Clearly, she was damaged, one mast was broken, and she was also lying very deep in the water. With a small grin, Imogen ordered her men on the battle stations and had the Jolly Roger flown.

They exchanged a few salvos with the Spanish ship, but no serious damage was done to Imogen's ships before all three of them cruised in alongside the Spanish vessel and the men boarded her, encountering little resistance from her exhausted crew.

With glee, Imogen learned that the ship was indeed one of the silver transporters that had been cut off from the convoy during the storm. She left the ship intact and, in turn, had to distribute the load on all three of her ships to have them go comparatively fast. Even with three ships, she did not want to run into someone who might think her easy prey. Wilhelmstad beckoned, the Gulden beckoned (with hot baths and fine food and everything that looked even more promising now what with Imogen being soaked unto her skin and freezing in the hefty gales of wind), and with her, she carried silver worth enough to buy not only Wilhelm's Gulden, but more than half of Wilhelmstad itself.

**x ****x**** x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

"Ah, Captain Sparrow. I hope you had a successful venture with the new addition to your convoy." The governor smiled politely and indicated towards the chair.  
Imogen sat down with a nod. "I had, Governor. I encountered a Spanish merchantman, cut off from her convoy through a storm. She was loaded with silver to the brim." She couldn't suppress a smug little smile.  
The governor raised his eyebrows and nodded. "A profitable venture, indeed. A fortune like that would enable you to actually retire from your business, if I may say so, Captain."  
"Retire?" Imogen leaned back. "Into what?"  
He blinked. "Into... retirement?"  
Crossing her arms, Imogen slowly tilted her head, a faint smile on her lips. "And how would I fill my days? I am not sure I would know what to do with myself sitting in a house all day."  
The governor gave her a small, lopsided smile. "You could start with writing down the story of your life, Captain. I'd dare say that a story like that would make a huge success in the romantically clouded minds of people back home as an adventurous novel."  
Imogen wrinkled her forehead and curled back her upper lip. "Adventurous novel?" She shook her head.

The governor cleared his throat. "Be that as it may", he said and looked at his papers. "You might want to know that Admiral van Dijk has left a few days ago for Nassau to arrest de Baanstedt for smuggling and high treason. I expect him back in roughly two weeks time."  
"And you send all of them to Amsterdam?"  
He nodded. "This is far too important not to have Wilhelm deal in person with it. But as to how long that may take, God alone knows."  
Imogen frowned. "How long could it take?"  
"Months. Weeks, if we are lucky. But I will not allow myself such optimism. Things like that take a large amount of time."  
"I see. So it could well be next spring before we will have any news."  
"Indeed. I cannot say I am happy with that, but as little as I can hold the lawsuit here, as little can I go along and speed things up."  
"But have you ever found out why he wanted you dead?"

The governor folded his hands on his desk. "I do not know, but I have a suspicion. I gather that with me checking Suenens' ledgers I poked right into the wasp nest. And since I have already discovered some very significant frauds in Amsterdam all those years ago, and since my discoveries led to several men losing money, rank and standing, they tried to hinder me in again digging out some unpleasentries and decided that having me out of the way would be the best idea."  
Imogen could only nod.  
"I shall find out as soon as I have de Baanstedt here. In the meantime, we all have to exercise patience, Captain."  
Imogen nodded again.

"I gather this is all for today, Captain. Is it?"  
"It is", Imogen gave back and rose from the chair.  
"I bid you a good day, Captain."  
"The same to you, Governor."

Imogen reached the door and turned around again. "Governor?"  
"Yes?" He looked up from his papers.  
She bit her lip and managed a somewhat shy smile. "How is your son?"  
He placed his quill down again. "He is well and thriving, thank you for asking, Captain. It seems being born more than a month early has not done him any harm."  
"That gladdens my heart", Imogen gave back with a smile.  
"Doubtlessly", the governor gave back with a faint, but true smile in return.  
Imogen bowed her head and opened the door. "I shall see you in a month's time, Governor." Then she left his office.

Lucas watched her go with a strange mix of feelings. Strange because they were so contradicting. He always felt relief when she left again, but even so, he never failed to feel an unwelcome kind of sadness, as well. He knew she had gone through a lot, and not only did he think of the wound she had taken to save his life and the fever afterwards.

With a sigh, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and looked at the little wooden box wrapped in a piece of parchment. A sudden idea struck him and he hastily got up, a faint smile on his face. He hurried down the corridor and saw her just walk through the door. "Captain!"  
She stopped and turned around, a slightly confused look on her face.  
"Regarding that last topic of our conversation", he said and indicated towards the staircase. "If you would follow me?"  
Imogen swallowed and blinked, but followed him.

Once out of earshot of the guards at the door, Lucas cleared his throat. "I have thought of a way to... repay you for the gift you brought me, Captain."  
"I... I didn't do it to receive any kind of favour in return."  
"No doubt. But still. Up to today, however, I could think of nothing suitable."  
"And... today?"  
He smiled faintly. "I do not know if it has the desired effect, Captain. But it might mean something to you."

He turned into a corridor and Imogen recognised the surroundings. Yet he did not turn left, to where his private study was, but to the right where he stopped in front of the third door, listening. With a nod, he opened and entered, then bade her come in.

Imogen followed him and saw that she had entered the nursery. There was a cradle standing below the window, a table and two chairs were sitting at the wall to the left, next to a door, and another door was leading into a small camber, doubtlessly where the wet-nurse slept. She was, presently, sitting in the big chair next to the cradle with a bundle in her arms.  
"Milord", she said as she looked up.  
"Katrien." He inclined his head. "Is he awake?"  
"He is." With a smile, Katrien handed him the child and, hugging the boy to his shoulder, Lucas walked over to the door where Imogen stood, unmoving as if the sight of him carrying his son had turned her into a pillar of salt.

"Captain Sparrow, my son. Ruben Cornelius." He looked at Ruben who, in turn, stared at his father and grinned, exposing two tiny white teeth in his lower jaw. "Ruben, this is Captain Sparrow." He looked at Imogen again.  
She was chewing her lower lip and strangely enough, seemed to fight her tears. "Hello Ruben", she said. "My, you've grown somewhat..."  
Watching her, he could not help the feeling that she truly was fighting her tears, but he could not fathom why. She avoided his eyes and now, stared at her feet again. With a slightly uneasy feeling, he turned around and gave the boy back to the wet-nurse.

Imogen wordlessly followed him to the stairwell.

"Thank you", she said then and finally, looked at him again. "It did mean a lot to me." She wiped her eyes. "Sorry, sir."  
"No need for apologizing, Captain", he replied, feeling slightly confused by her mood. "I just never made it clear just how much that little gift did mean to me." He cleared his throat. "And I wanted to give you something other in return than... a glass of water."  
She bit her lower lip. "Thank you, sir. It..." she lowered her eyes. "I... Thank you." She fell silent.  
Lucas stared at her and folded his hands behind his back. "I do get the feeling I have not done you a favour just now, Captain."  
Imogen shrugged. "You have. I just..." She shrugged again. "It's... I don't know. The feeling that I'm still here, and his mother isn't, it's just..." She wiped a hand across her eyes. "It feels wrong."  
"Captain", Lucas said, not quite knowing what to think of that. "I think this is rather fruitless."  
"It is." She swallowed and straightened up again. "Sorry. I am a bit tired, what with having just come ashore."  
He accepted the lie without another word. Delving into that particular topic would involve more intimacy than both of them could afford.

Wordlessly, they made their way back down into the hallway again where he escorted her to the door.

"Thank you for letting me see the boy", she said then, and he got the impression that she said this to make the guards stop wonder why he had taken her upstairs. "I bid you a good day, Governor."  
"You are welcome, Captain. A good day to you."

He watched her go. He went back into his office and closed the door behind him. He sat down at his desk. He stared into the empty air.

"I wish you steady winds", he finally whispered and shook his head before picking up his quill again.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Deciding that three ships was at least one too much, Imogen did not leave Wilhelmstad with the Athena again. She had offered her to van de Weyer who had gladly bought her, crew and all, adding even more to Imogen's growing fortune. She already needed a chest in her cabin to store all those gulden.

She left Curacao for Tortuga, to head back from there along the shipping lane towards the east. This had become her usual round. Yet this time, she realised her heart wasn't in it. The two ships they encountered, fleeing from them towards the horizon, Imogen proclaimed not worth it and so it was that they came back to Curacao empty-handed. Not that it seriously bothered Imogen. She could pay her crew from her own stock of money and probably wouldn't even spot the difference.

Yet as they came nearer to the bay that accommodated Wilhelmstad's harbour, all of them noticed the smell. A stench. A horrifying, disgusting stench, becoming worse and worse with every passing minute. It smelled of sickness, and of death. Imogen exchanged a worried glance with Schillebeeck who shrugged.

But as soon as they pulled into the harbour, the reason became clear: A Guineaman was lying there, docked at the end of the pier. A slave ship.

The stench and the sight of it awoke terrible memories in Imogen.

_"__What'__s that s__h__ip, daddy?"  
"It's a Guineaman, __luv__A slaver."  
"What is it? Why does it stink so terrible?"  
Jack looked down at his __daughter,__ dismayed and worried that she might encounter something so terrible at her tender age of seven. "__There's dead people__ on board__."  
"Do we board it?"  
"I'm afraid we have to."_

_The ship had __had __a plague on board, a plague that had broken out below, in the cargo hold among the slaves__ but had spread so quickly that the crew had not survived it, eithe__r and t__he ship was drifting aimlessly, with no one at the rudder. The Black Pearl made her course towards her and her men had to bind shawls and cloths before their faces. It helped little against the overwhelming stench of death._

_Holding on to her father's hand, Imogen cautiously walked across the deck. She had seen dead persons before, dead persons were not scary. They didn't move, so there was no reason to be afraid of them. But so many dead persons, and most of them in a state of decay that made them hardly recognisable as once having been human beings, did make her sick. _

_The worst stench was coming from below.  
Holding on to her hand, Jack led her down, through the empty corridor past cabins and the galley into the cargo hold._

_"Look, __Imi__. I'm sorry, __luv__. But ye have to look."_

_And __I__mogen removed her face out of__ the folds of __her father's shirt and looked. _

_Rows upon rows of bodies.__ Shackled together on the tightest possible space__, packed like herrings in a box.__ Bloated, swollen bodies, their limbs grotesquely distorted by their shackles and chains. But also, did she realise, were there still some survivors. Moans rang out in the darkness of the hull. Someone screamed._

_"This is what men are capable of, __luv__. They take other men and treat them worse than animals. They ship them like that from Africa to the new world, and who survives the journey will be forever in shackles and chains and labouring their bones into splinters for nothing but lashes. It's wrong, __Imi__luv__. It's the worst thing a man can do to another man. Making him not __be__ a man any more. Do ye understand?"_

_Suppressing her sobs, Imogen could only nod. _

_With a sigh, her father picked her up and carried her on deck again. _

_"There's still some alive down there. Take __ye__ care of those", he said to his crewmen and the men cocked their pistols and went downstairs, faces pale and grim. There was nothing anyone could do for the poor souls than putting them out of their misery. The__n__ he set Imogen down again, led her to the railing and held her head as she retched and retched until nothing was left inside her any more, and he carried her back onto the Pearl where he settled her on his lap __while__ he sat on the bed as she wept, and he let her sleep with him in his bed for a few nights until the worst nightmares subsided._

She had never forgotten. And like her father, she had never let one chance pass by to help any slave if it presented itself.

But this... a slaver in Curacao... she could do nothing, she knew. She couldn't buy all the slaves and set them free. Freeing slaves was forbidden by several laws. She could do nothing... and suddenly, inside her, a little girl sobbed and screamed at the slavers while Imogen closed her hands around the spokes and passed the Guineaman with a stony face.


	64. Chapter 62

**Chapter 62**

"Good morning, Captain Sparrow. Please, take a seat."  
Imogen sat down without a word.  
"Is something wrong, Captain?"  
She cleared her throat. "There's a Guineaman in the harbour."  
The governor looked at the window. "Yes, I did notice the smell."  
Imogen blinked. "But..."  
"Is there a problem, Captain?"  
"You... you trade slaves in Wilhelmstad?"  
He folded his hands on his desk. "And is there a problem with that?"

And staring at him, a first in incomprehension, then in reluctant understanding, Imogen realised that she was talking to a man who had never given that notion any thought. He was an aristocrat, a wealthy man, grown up in wealth as generations of his family before. The notion that slavery might be wrong had never crossed his mind. Most likely was that he gave slaves no more thought than furniture or doors. They were just there and had their purpose.

Why had the thought never before crossed her mind? Why had she never thought about this before? Why was she so utterly taken aback by the fact that the man before her did not think the same thoughts about it than she did? Had she dared to assume he would?

Imogen could only shake her head. "It's... it's wrong. You can't..."  
"I cannot what? Do you believe I should restrict the types of cargo traded in my city?" He narrowed his eyes.  
"Cargo?" Her voice was a little hoarse. "Cargo?"  
"What else? Of course are slaves cargo. Captain, I do not quite..."  
"Cargo? They're people!"  
A line appeared on his forehead. "Captain, we are talking about negroes here. Savages who run around naked and do neither know nor care about god, his commandments nor have a proper language. What in god's name is it you have..."  
"Governor!" Imogen clenched both her hands into fists. "They're people! They live and love and tell stories and sing songs for their children! No one can have any rights as to..."  
"Captain!" He pressed his hands on the surface on his desk and Imogen had the impression he would rather have slammed them down. "I ask you to refrain from silly romantic notions and..."  
"Silly? Romantic..." She swallowed. "Are you a slaver?"

He leaned back, his brow still furrowed. "Do you mean a slave owner or a slave trader with that word? For one I am, while the other I surely am not."  
"You... own slaves?"  
He shook his head in what seemed like exasperation. "Of course I own slaves, Captain. They belong to my household. I must admit it seems rather strange to me that you should be surprised by that."  
"How can you?" Imogen clenches her fists even tighter. "How can you! How can you facilitate such a crime!"  
"Excuse me?" He slowly leaned forward again. "Crime? Captain, you are about to cross a line there in insulting me."  
Imogen swallowed. "But..." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. "How can you? How can you tolerate and facilitate rape and abuse and violence to such a degree?"  
"Captain, my household slaves are clothed and fed and sleep in the house instead of a kennel. They are neither abused nor raped in..."  
Imogen snorted. "And if you believe that you are more naive than I thought."  
"Captain", the governor said rather sharply. "If you do not immediately refrain from throwing insults at me I am afraid I will have to take measures against your very person."

Imogen leaned back a little and looked at him. Again, his eyes had turned harsh and cold on her, but she could not stop. Not this time. "You don't see it, do you."  
"See what?"  
"How wrong it is." Imogen shrugged. "That they are people like you and me."  
"Like... me? Captain..."  
"Maybe not like you. But like me."  
"Heathen savages?" His voice had an edge to it that made Imogen flinch.  
"Heathen savages. Exactly. Ignorant of God's grace and mercy, they go through their lives in darkness and in sin."  
The governor slowly raised one eyebrow at seeing her expression.  
"Does that sound familiar?" She bit her lower lip or a second. "I was a heathen savage too, Governor. Before someone made me see and accept God's grace and mercy."  
He did not reply, but his face grew a little pale.

"What do you get when a dog mates with a cat?"  
He blinked. "You cannot mate a dog and a cat."  
"Exactly. Neither can you mate a man and a dog. Because they're different. But what happens if you breed a boarhound and a sheepdog?"  
"I fail to see where you are going, Captain."  
"You get fine, healthy pubs, Governor. Because they're both dogs."  
"Would you care to explain..."  
"What happens if you mate a white man with a negro woman?"  
"Captain, I do not have the time for your silliness." He crossed his arms. "I insist that you..."  
"You get a baby. Like any other baby, part mother, part father. A mix of white and black. A mulatto."  
"I am fully aware of the breeding capacities of..."  
Imogen got up. "I am sorry to have taken so much of your time." She felt cold and sore all over as she headed for the door. Turning around as she reached for the door knob, she cast the governor another look. "I thought you were a good man." Then she left, tired to the bones.

Lucas stared at the door with a pale and stony face.

_"I thought you were a good man."_

He thought that, too. A man who cared for his servants. A man who treated his slaves decently. And yet... seeing her look at him like that, he suddenly felt as if he had committed a crime worse than murder. He wanted to feel righteous indignation. But for whatever reason, the look in her eyes as she had left had hurt him.

Utter, utter disappointment. And the thought that she was disappointed in him, to such a degree, made him cringe. He hadn't been aware how much he held on her thoughts of him. Obviously, far too much. But help it, he could not.

He, facilitating rape and abuse? Not in his household. He was, or had been until a few minutes ago, absolutely sure that no one abused his workforce.

_"And if you believe that you are more naive than I thought."_

It was not her words that made him leave his office at that point. It was not the words of blame, the insults, and the accusations. It was her eyes. Her dark eyes, so full of utter disappointment and sadness. He wanted to put all those words aside and ignore them as ramblings of someone who didn't really know what she was talking about. But her look, he couldn't ignore.

Cursing himself for a sentimental fool, he walked down the corridor that led to the backyard.

There he stood, sweeping his eyes across the courtyard behind his house. There was the kitchen entrance behind him, the stables in front of him, and the gate to the road at his right. A couple of guards came out of a door and crossed the yard, heading for the stables. The kitchen door opened and a woman stepped out. One of his slaves. She was wearing a headscarf that hid her hair and carried a basket under one arm, heading for the chicken yard. Lucas took a few steps across the yard, unobtrusively following her a bit.  
She passed the stables just as one of the guards came out again.

"Hey there. Netty!"  
She flinched and almost dropped the basket.  
"Been a while. I thought we'd agreed we meet every other night out here."  
"I am sorry, master." Her voice was hardly audible at that distance. "I was..."  
"I don't care what you were." He grabbed her face in his hand and forced her to look at him. "What you are now is in trouble, crab-louse." He let go of her face and grabbed her arm. The basket fell to the ground and spun a few times on its edge before coming to a halt.  
"Please, master... I am expected back in the kitchen shortly..."  
"That shouldn't take too long, bitch, the way you've kept me waiting." With these words, he dragged the pleading slave woman with him into the stable.

Lucas was frozen on the spot. Such happened in his own house?

_"And if you believe that you are more naive than I thought."_

And obviously, he had been more naive than he himself had thought. He unfroze himself, a cold and bitter taste at the back of his mouth, and headed for the stable.

"And if you scream, you're done for."  
"Please, master..."  
Lucas heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and heard her gasp. He hastened his steps.  
"Bitch! Hold still!"  
"No! Please!"  
"Shut up!"

"And what in the name of God is going on here?" Lucas stopped in the door of the stable, staring at the guard who had just wrestled the slave girl to the ground and was now nestling at his breeches. He looked up and froze.  
"I swear, milord, these niggers are worse than a bitch in heat! Can't get enough of a proper man, as it seems. She's been following me around for days now! How is a man supposed..."  
"Let her go. At once." Lucas crossed his arms, cold fury coagulating in his guts. "And if I catch you or any other of your companions once again damaging my property and harassing any woman in my household, slave or no, then that will be answered with five lashes. Is that understood?"  
The soldier scrambled onto his feet and hastily stowed his shirt into his breeches again. "Milord, that meddling bitch has..."  
"Is that understood?", Lucas repeated, his voice as sharp as a whiplash. "If you need a woman, go to the harbour, there are enough whores desperate enough to sell you their body for a pittance. But I will not have anyone damage my property and ruin their ability to work."  
"Milord... but if..."  
"I will hear no more of this." Lucas pointed towards the door. "Out. Now. And if I hear one more word, from you in person or from someone else about you, you will have to look elsewhere for work."  
The soldier paled and saluted, then left without another word.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Lucas walked a few steps up to the woman who had got up, as well, and was sorting her dress with hasty, clumsy movements. She stopped, however, when he halted before her, and lowered her eyes, clutching a fold of her apron between her fingers.

"Netty."  
"Yes, master?"  
"Has he done it before?"  
She bit her lip and shook her head.  
"Netty, you have nothing to fear from me. Speak the truth."  
She nodded.  
"Has he done it before?"  
She nodded again.  
"Netty, look at me."  
She did so, but only very reluctantly. She was actually a pretty thing with big, almond shaped, slanted eyes and the smooth, light brown skin of a mulatto. She also bore a faint trace of a bruise on her cheek.  
Lucas took her face in his hand, but gently, and turned her head to look at it. "Did he do that?"  
"No", she whispered. "Someone else. But I do not know their names."  
"I see." He sighed. "I realise you are afraid he will come back and seek revenge. But I will not have it, and I will do whatever is in my power to stop this. Do you understand? I will not have it. No one abuses women in my vicinity."  
Netty looked at her feet again. "Thank you, master."

Lucas sighed and dragged a hand down his face. What was happening here? Was the whole world going mad? He lowered his eyes at the slave girl again who, in turn, shyly looked up.

"I cast my eyes upon the stars", she whispered and, for the first time, searched his eyes. After a few seconds, however, she lowered hers again and swallowed. "And I shall pray for guidance. They will light my way."

Then she curtsied and hurried past him. Still blinking in confusion, he followed her outside and watched her pick up her basket and vanish behind the stables.

He was absolutely sure that he had just been given a code.

**x ****x**** x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

When Herman brought him his tea later that evening, Lucas did not fail to see that something was wrong with the man. He moved sluggish. He seemed to have trouble concentrating. And when he handed Lucas the cup, he noticed that Herman's hands were trembling. His face, however, betrayed nothing. Lucas took the cup, sighed, and looked at his servant.

"Herman, what is the matter?"  
"Milord?"  
"Herman." Lucas put the cup down. Had the whole world really gone mad around him, or was it he himself who was losing his mental trustworthiness? "How long have you been my personal manservant?"  
"Since your tenth birthday, milord."  
"And that is how long ago?"  
"Almost five and twenty years, milord."  
"And do you not think that after so long a trusting relationship you can tell me what is weighing on your mind? I have never seen you so worried."  
Herman put the teapot down and straightened up, blinking heftily.

"Please", he said after a while. "I know that troublemaking slaves are sold, milord, but please, can you make an exception? Please, can you refrain from selling Netty?"  
Could he have gotten any more confused, he would have. But as it was, Lucas felt himself stare dumbfounded at his elderly servant, unable to find any words at first. "Herman, my good man... not that it is my business, but that woman is barely half your age."  
Herman picked up a cloth and wiped the little trolley the tea was served upon. "I... She is..."  
"Herman", Lucas said with another sigh.  
"Milord." Herman straightened up again. "Do you remember we brought some staff with us when we came here?"  
"I do. Was she among them?"  
"She was, although hardly more than a child. Do you remember the cook we brought? Marie?"  
"Not as such... but I do remember we brought a few slaves, one of them a cook. What about her?"  
Herman swallowed. "Netty is her daughter."  
"Oh. I see..." Lucas began, believing to understand.  
"And mine."

He was just about to take a sip of his tea and now dropped it, saucer and all. Tea was dripping down his chin and he wiped a hand across his mouth, still goggling at Herman who wordlessly picked up the cup, the saucer and handed him the cloth. Lucas stared at the cloth as if wondering what on earth he should do with something like that, then absentmindedly wiped at the tea stains on his shirt and vest while watching Herman rearrange cup, plates, saucer and teapot on the trolley.

"Herman", he said after a while. "What makes you so sure she is yours? It is a wise child that knows his father."  
Herman folded his hands. "I do have a fairly high position in the ranks of the servants, milord. I simply claimed Marie as my own and no one else dared to interfere with that, because I have your ear and could have complained."  
Lucas blinked. "I see..." Then he stared at the cloth in his hands again and handed it back to Herman before walking over to the window.

_"What do you get when a dog mates with a cat?"  
"You cannot mate a dog and a cat."  
"Exactly.__ Neither can you mate a man and a dog. __Because they're different.__ But what happens if you breed a boarhound and a sheepdog?"  
"I fail to see where you are going, Captain."  
"You get fine, healthy pubs, Governor. __Because they're both dogs."  
"Would you care to explain...__"  
"What happens if you mate a white man with a __n__egro__ woman?"  
"Captain, I do not have the time for your silliness.__I insist that you..."  
"You get a baby. Like any other baby, part mother, part father. __A mix of white and black.__A mulatto."_

Behind him, Herman did not move any more as he waited for further instructions. Below the window, the usual business on the roads of Wilhelmstad went its way, oblivious of the fact that there was one man watching it whose world had just been turned upside down.

"Herman", Lucas said after several minutes of silence. "I shall not sell her."  
"Thank you, milord."

Lucas kept on staring out of the window. A small black bird flew past with a twitter. A cloud drifted across the sun, casting his face in shadows before it passed on. The leaves of the palm trees rustled in the wind.

Without turning around, Lucas finally took a deep breath. "I cast my eyes upon the stars", he said in a low voice.  
Behind him, he could hear Herman's sharp intake of breath. He heard him put down the cloth. His voice, when he answered, was shaking. "And they shall guide my way to freedom."

Lucas slowly looked over his shoulder at his trembling servant. His voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Spread the word."

He turned around and stared out again as he heard Herman leave.

As if he had not enough troubles on his mind.

_"I thought you were a good man."_

Was he? He didn't know any more. He only knew that as from now, he had changed sides in a war he had not known about.

_Abolitionist._


	65. Chapter 63

**Chapter 63**

Feeling absolutely shattered, Imogen had left Curacao again in such a hurry that she didn't even have to reassemble her crew as none of them had left the ships yet. During the usual stop in Tortuga, Imogen dragged Niels with her into the Drunken Rat where they sat down at a table as far away from the door as possible and there, she told her friend what had happened in the governor's office and what she had said to him, what he had said to her. And that this time, she truly believed that she wouldn't be welcome there, at least for a while.

"So what will ye do?" Niels took a sip of his drink.  
"I don't really know." She stared at the table before her. "I've never been to India..."  
"Imogen."  
She looked up again.  
"Don't go to India. Ye'll be gone for more than a year, at least. Are ye sure zat's what ye want?"  
Imogen shrugged. "No. But I am pretty sure that what I want is completely out of question."  
"And what would zat be?"  
Imogen took a large swig out of her bottle. "I thought that's bloody obvious, Niels. I want him back. But that's not going to happen. The stars would rather shine at noon."  
Niels scratched is beard with a thoughtful expression. "And what do ye zink going to India will change?"  
She shrugged again. "Don't know."  
"So why..."  
"Niels." Imogen put her bottle down and looked at her friend again. "I can't... I just can't stand this anymore. I need..." She sighed. "I don't know what I need. But I know I can't handle this any longer. It's one thing to miss someone. It's quite another to miss someone whom you regularly see. Do ye understand...? I... I can't really explain it."  
Niels gave her along, thoughtful look. "Aye, I zink I do understand, Imogen."  
"I hoped ye might."  
They exchanged another glance and drank the rest of their bottles in silence.

**x ****x**** x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Of course things did not change in any significant, obvious way. While Lucas had treated his slaves quite decently before, for slaves, he treated them no different than servants now. There was a change of mood in the house, especially among some of the guards who had been deprived of their favourite past time, but after two of them had indeed received their five lashes for harassing women, nothing had happened again.

More, he could not do. He could not free his slaves, it was forbidden by the law to set slaves free. Neither could he stop the slave trade in any way or force anyone in Wilhelmstad or in Curacao to give up slavery. He could do only very little. But he did what he could.  
Because no one makes a greater mistake than he who does nothing because he can do so little.

He made sure his slaves had enough and proper food, had decent places to sleep and worked no more hours than the other servants. He also summoned the doctor to check their health and see if any of them had parasites or anything that needed treatment.

The doctor, once instructed, gave him a very strange and scrutinizing look. "It's a bit unusual to employ someone like me to have a look at the slaves. Normally there's all sorts of barbers and blood-letters abound to do that."  
"If you have a problem with treating slaves, Doctor, by all means, you do not have to do it", Lucas gave back. "But I do remember you telling me what you think of the... gentlemen of the professions you just mentioned."  
"Yes, I called them leeches and a plague. And I do not have problems with treating slaves. I was just surprised."  
_Probably not as surprised as I was, my friend_, Lucas thought as he leaned back in his chair.

The doctor looked at him again. "If I may be so bold to ask", he said then. "What makes you care so much for them, all of a sudden?"  
Lucas pursed his lips, trying to think of a possible, plausible answer. He had tried to do so before, but to no avail. "I do believe it is doing the right thing, caring about your workforce, slaves or no", he finally said.  
The doctor tilted his head.  
"Is something wrong with that notion? Do you believe me being sentimental regarding my workforce again?"  
De Beer frowned slightly. "If you pardon my bluntness... but the last time I did so, it turned out to be truer than we both thought at the time."  
Lucas pressed his lips together.

"I do wonder...", the doctor said then.  
"Wonder what?"  
De Beer tapped his chin with his forefinger. "If I have misunderstood you so far or if this notion is very new."  
"And what difference would it make?" Lucas slowly folded his hands.  
"No significant difference, my dear Governor. But a difference nonetheless, as it makes me wonder where on earth you got that notion from."  
"I am not too sure if that is your business, my good Doctor."  
De Beer grinned. "Of course not. But I am a doctor, and I have an inquisitive mind, if you forgive me. One could even say I am a curious person."  
Lucas managed a small smile in return. "By all means. As long as you do not expect that every single one of your inquisitions will be answered promptly and completely..."  
The Doctor waved this aside. "Heavens, no. But since you do not intend to answer that particular question, and with good reason, no doubt, might I ask another one?"  
"I might not answer it, in turn, Doctor."  
"Fair enough." The doctor cleared his throat. "To whom have you spoken about this so far?"  
Lucas narrowed his eyes. "No one but you."  
"Ah. I see." De Beer looked at his folded hands.  
"Doctor?"

He pursed his lips. "Governor..." Then he looked up and straight into his eyes. "I cast my eyes upon the stars."  
Lucas blinked. He narrowed his eyes some more, yet the face of his friend was unmoving. He slowly leaned forward a bit. "And they shall guide my way to freedom."  
De Beer smiled. "I'd better have a look at your slaves, Governor. We've lost enough time in chatting away as it is."  
A long silence followed in which both men looked at each other.

"Who else?", Lucas finally dared to ask.  
"De Blank, van Zeller and van Gogh."  
"I see."  
"Who?"  
Lucas shot de Beer a questioning look.  
"Who?", the doctor asked again and suddenly it dawned on Lucas what he meant.  
"The Captain."  
"Which one?"  
"Sparrow."  
"Oh."  
"Indeed.

They exchanged another glance.

"Funny old world", the doctor finally said.  
"I am not too sure if 'funny' is the term I would use to describe the world as such or my position therein, Doctor", Lucas gave back and stared out of the window.  
The doctor didn't reply.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

A few weeks after the incident between him and Imogen that had led to his world being turned upside down, van Dijk returned from Nassau with de Baanstedt as a prisoner. But whatever van Dijk had tried in terms of threats or persuasions, the man had not said a single word.  
Lucas tried his luck as well. Hours of interrogation, both in prison in the vicinity or all sorts of instruments of torture and in his office led to nothing. De Baanstedt simply stared defiantly at him and van Dijk and did not even snort or take a loud breath.

In the end, they gave up and van Dijk loaded the men already imprisoned, all the proofs hey had gathered, the books, letters, accounts and lists, and de Baanstedt himself onto the fastest ship he had available and set off for Amsterdam in mid June, promising the governor to see to it that things were sped up as much as possible.

And again, there was nothing left but to wait.

Van Dijk would not be in Amsterdam before August. And September, October if he was really daring, was the latest he could attempt a crossing to return to the Caribbean. Which left a month, two at the utmost, for the case to be dealt with. Lucas did not give in to any delusions that it would happen. He would have to wait until April for news, most likely. March, earliest. And it was only June.

Lucas had never been in doubt that he possessed the virtue of patience. But all those events of the last months, all the worrying, the self-accusations, the lack of sleep, the guilt and the pain, had worn him out. He found himself pace through his residence a lot lately.  
He also kept counting the days, the days van Dijk would still have to travel, the days the court could still take to deal with it.  
It did, of course, nothing to either speed things up or to ease his mind.

July came and went. Yet amidst all his worries, anxieties and being eaten by impatience, he did not fail to notice that Imogen had not come that month.

And he began to wonder if the events and the way they had parted the last time had hewn another cleft between them. If she never wanted to see him again. The way she had looked at him, it wouldn't surprise him if he never saw her again.

And he had no words how much that notion both hurt and scared him.

The worst part was that there was no one he could entrust himself to. There was no one he dared open his heart to, to ease his mind, to relieve himself of at least a tiny part of all those feelings, but he dared not even carry them to confession. He locked them away in his heart, but there, they kept on eating him from inside. And he slept even less.

During one of his sleepless rounds, pacing through the house like a restless cat, he passed the nursery and heard Ruben wail and protest and Katrien's voice trying to calm him. She sounded very tired.

Cautiously, Lucas opened the door. Katrien was standing by the window and rocking the boy in her arms.  
"Katrien. What is wrong?"  
She turned around and shrugged with a strained little smile. "He's just teething, milord. It's a hard time for all of us."  
"I see." He looked at his son who was drooling on Katrien's shoulder while chewing on a polished elongated piece of wood. "I gather you have both not slept very well in a while."  
"Indeed, milord."  
He walked up to her. "I take him for a while. I cannot sleep, and you can have a little rest in the meantime."  
"Are you sure?" Katrien gave him a worried look. "He is a bit fussy at the moment and not easy to calm down."  
"If he has to scream at someone, he might as well scream at me, for, as I said, I cannot sleep anyway."  
"If you say so", Katrien gave back and handed the boy to him. "Careful, he's drooling somewhat awfully lately." She draped a napkin over Lucas' shoulder. "He will spoil your clothes otherwise."  
"Thank you", he gave back and hugged the boy to his shoulder. "Good night, Katrien."  
"Good night, milord."

He left, carrying Ruben with him who was, indeed, a bit fussy. The two restless souls made their way through the empty house together, but being carried around had a calming effect on the boy, at least. Stopping at one of the windows in the hallway, Lucas stared outside and at the full moon that was just about visible over the trees behind the house.

"Two years", he finally whispered. "It is two years since I parted from her. One would be prone to think that after such a long time, feelings would begin to cease."

Ruben looked at him out of big eyes and drew the piece of wood out of his mouth to inspect it. Only then did Lucas realise that he had spoken this out loud, and had, in fact, addressed those words to his son who couldn't even answer. Yet was that the most important part? He was a human being, a human soul, and with him not having any words yet, he would neither judge nor blame him, but just be a soul whom he could maybe ease his heart with.

"Ruben", he said and the boy looked up at him and held out the piece of wood. "No, thank you, I do not want that thing, it is covered in spittle." Yet he had to smile and Ruben stuffed the thing into his mouth again without taking his eyes off his father.  
"Is it so unforgivable to love someone? It might me a sin, to love and desire a woman while being married to another woman. But is love really a sin? Is sin not sent by the devil? And is love not sent by God?"  
Ruben looked at the wood and back again at his father. "Bah." Then he continued chewing on it.  
"I take that as a yes."

With another sigh, Lucas looked out of the window again. "I know I am supposed to mourn your mother. Do not doubt that I still do. But grief ceases, my son. Even the most bitter grief ceases. I would have been prone to think that after so long a time, a love would cease. But I was wrong."  
Ruben rested his head against his shoulder with a sigh.  
"Yes, I still miss her. I miss your mother. She was a wonderful woman, and I was very fond of her. But I did not love her. I could not give her my heart as it belongs to someone else. I knew all along how much it hurt her, but there was nothing I could do about it. I could not change the way I felt then, and I cannot change the way I feel now." He looked at the face of his son again, and Ruben looked up at him, giving the impression he was not only listening intently to his father's words but also pondering them.

"I never thought I could be with her again. I did not think about it at all after your mother died. But now, so many months after her death, with the grief ceasing and ebbing off, I find myself wondering if there might not be a way for me to..." He broke off and sighed. "Is it wrong for me to think such things? I have not even buried your mother as I cannot do so without breaking the promise I gave her as she lay dying in my arms. Do I have to bury her to emerge from mourning? And what will I do if all my prayers for justice and revenge remain fruitless and her murderer will not be sentenced? I swore I would mourn her until she would be avenged. Was it wrong? Futile? Senseless?"  
"Gnnf", Ruben said around the wood in his mouth.  
"I do not want to shame your mother, nor defile her memory. I shall hold on to my oath, and I shall not stray from the path of duty and propriety. I have done so all my life. But what did I get from all this?" Lucas looked at Ruben again. "All the knowledge of doing the right thing does not bring back the happiness I felt when..." He swallowed. "The happiness I felt when she was with me. I did not know how to be happy, my son. Not before she had looked at me with those dark, glowing brown eyes and told me that she loved me. And this was so long ago..." He sighed again. "I have forgotten how it feels, Ruben."

Ruben leaned back a little and stared at his father out of solemn, grey eyes. Then he reached out and clumsily patted Lucas' chin and lower lip. "Gleb."  
"I like to think that was meant as a word of comfort, my son", Lucas gave back with a tiny smile. "Thank you."  
Ruben looked down and busied himself with the wood again.  
"But I do get the feeling I shall never see her again, Ruben. I was aware of what was between us, all those differences, the different background, the education, all that... I could put this aside, without any trouble, as soon as she just stepped close to me. But that one, last obstacle seems to have torn us apart for good and forever. It seems I cannot even tell her anymore that I have seen her point."

He stared out of the window again where moon had just vanished behind the crowns of the trees. Ruben snuggled against his shoulder and sighed.

"I want her back, Ruben. May god forgive me, may your mother forgive me. We would have been married two years today, and I still should be grieving. I am. But I... I also cannot forget. I cannot. I shall do what I must, my son. Never doubt that. I shall do what I must, and I shall do what I can. But may god forgive me, I cannot do so any longer at the cost of my own soul."

* * *

_Nobody makes a greater mistake than he who does nothing because he can only do a little._ Edmund Burke, Irish politician 


	66. Chapter 64

**Chapter 64**

Staring out of the window of his office, Lucas watched the street below, the people hurrying back and forth, going on about their daily business as every day before, and as they would do come a new day, a new week, or a new month.  
September had gone by and Imogen had not come back. October had waved in passing, and Lucas realised he was slowly beginning to give up the hope he had still nourished of ever seeing her again.

With the sun already low in the sky, he shook his head in resignation and turned away. He left his office, as every day, he went upstairs, as every day, and he entered his study, as every day.  
And there, he stared at his cello. As every day. A carpenter in Wilhelmstad had done a good job repairing it, the board was reattached perfectly, and the scratch in the varnish had been mended and was hardly visible any more. He was even in the possession of a new bow.

But he had still not restrung the instrument.

For ever since he had last played, the day before his four and thirtieth birthday, he had never again touched it. He shook his head. Ever since he had watched Imogen take that wound, ever since that madness that had occurred afterwards, those straining, exhausting weeks, and ever since Elysande's tragic death, he had never felt the urge, not the slightest bit, to ever touch the cello again.  
As if with him having lost both of them, he had also lost his music. He had tried it once, quite a while ago. It had sounded hollow and lifeless, mechanical and dumb, and he had dropped the bow after five notes and had not touched it again. Apart from kicking it into shreds.

He didn't touch it now.

Instead, he left his study again to head for the sitting room where he used to have his meals, had a few bites to eat and went back into his bedroom. He was tired to the bones, and although he knew he would lie awake most of the time anyway, he undressed and went to bed.

But against his expectations, his tiredness was stronger than his racing thoughts that usually kept him awake and he fell asleep almost instantly.

_"But here in Curacao, we go with the times. We do not hang pirates any more. We shoot them." Feeling smug, he folded his hands on the desk to see if McGuyre would swallow the ruse.  
__The captain looked at him with a paling face, and then past him, out of the window where, Lucas knew, the gallows were to be seen __standing__ on the battlements of the garrison fort.  
__"You're bluffing, Governor", he said.  
__Feeling a little confused at his facial expression, Lucas turned around to see that a body swung from the noose, a woman clad in men's clothing. He jumped out of his chair as he saw the __unruly__, ebony curls stirring in the breeze when, as he stared, the body stopped twitching.  
_"NO!"

Lucas shot upright with a gasp and had to swallow the bile that was rising in his throat. He was cold all over, yet sweat was trickling down his temples. Still breathing raggedly, he looked around and realised that, to judge by the silence around him, it must be well past midnight. He had slept a few hours, indeed. But what good was sleep if it brought such nightmares with it?

He slowly lowered his body back again and adjusted the pillow under his head. Staring at the wooden roofing resting on the bedposts, he tried to calm his racing heart and breathing. What a nightmare... He almost did not dare to fall asleep again. He thought he never would.

But his eyes were heavy, and he could not keep them open.

Sleep claimed him, yet again.

He awoke again shortly before sunrise, with a dark, purple twilight casting strange shadows in the room. Someone was standing beside the window and was looking out. A woman. Sitting upright, Lucas blinked and she turned around as she heard him move.

"Elysande?"  
"Lucas." She smiled. "I am so glad you finally awoke."  
"Finally?"

And then it dawned on him: He had dreamed all that... he had been unconscious after the head wound he had received in the battle for Wilhelmstad. Everything had just been... A nightmare. Feeling weak in the knees, he slowly got up and walked up to Elysande's side.

"How do you feel?"  
"I had terrible dreams..." He rubbed the back of his neck.  
"Oh, my poor love. Everything shall be better soon, I promise."  
Lucas slowly tilted his head as he looked at her. "I do hope so, with the nightmare finally over and all..."  
"It gladdens my heart, truly, that your nightmares are gone, my love."

Something about the way she spoke was odd. "Are you quite all right, Elysande? How long have I been unconscious?"  
"Too long, my love. It is about time you had woken up to see what really lies beyond."  
"Beyond what?" He blinked in incomprehension. "Elysande?"  
She smiled a sad little smile. "Beyond guilt and blame and sadness, my love."  
"Elysande... what are you talking about?"  
"About leaving the burden behind that you have been carrying for so long now. Let me go, Lucas."  
"I... Elysande... What are you talking about?"

"I talk about saying good bye, my love. For I shall leave you know, again, maybe, but now, I shall be gone forever. Do never think I should blame you. Saying goodbye to a loved one is not the same as forgetting them or ceasing to think of them. It is to accept the loss and its restrictions and to say yes to life without the one who has died. You shall embrace life again now. I would have you be happy, my love. You have always known that."  
"Elysande..." He swallowed heavily. What was happening? He had heard those words before... in his dream...  
"I thank you for giving my love to my son, Lucas. In him, my love for you shall live on. Farewell now, my love."  
"Elysande..."

She faded before his very eyes and suddenly, was gone.

"ELYSANDE!"

And for the second time that night, Lucas shot upright in his bed and gasped for air. Another dream. Another nightmare.

A nightmare?

Staring at the window, and at the pale, orange light of early dawn falling into the bedroom in a shaft of light filled with dancing dust motes, Lucas realised that whatever the second dream had been, it certainly had not been a nightmare. He slowly got out of bed and walked over to the window where he stared out, into the pale pink clouds flanking the rising sun.

He had no explanation for it. He felt... he felt relieved. A huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders without him knowing or being aware of it. He felt as if he could breathe freely for the first time in months. In so many months... In... one year.

For suddenly his brain had provided him with the memory of the day. It was the tenth of November. It was...

He felt a small, sad smile spread on his lips.

It was Ruben's first birthday.

He stared at the sunrise again and sighed. "_Leef goed, Elysande, mijn engel. Leef goed_." (1)

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

After dressing himself, he walked slowly through the bedroom into Elysande's dressing room. The bedroom was actually in the middle of the corridor, with what had been Lucas' bedroom and was now, with the bed removed, his dressing room, adjacent at one side and Elysande's dressing room at the other. And while adjacent to his dressing room was his private study, a door from hers led into what was now the nursery.

He looked around, walked past the wardrobes and came to a halt at the table below the window. He could well remember her sitting here, her eyes resting on the mirror while she was arranging her hairpins. Then his eyes fell onto the table top and with a sigh, he sat down on the chair as he saw what was lying there.

It was her wedding ring. Adorned with three small white pearls separated by two tiny diamonds, the band of gold had only a simple engraving on the inside, just the date of their wedding. And only then did he realise that he was still wearing his own wedding ring. He had never taken it off, it had never even occurred to him. But now he took it off, had a long look at it and picked up Elysande's ring, as well. There was a small decorated wooden box that held all her jewellery, and there he put the two rings and carried the box with him as he left. He would give it to Ruben when he was grown, so he could pass these things on to maybe his wife or his daughters, should he have any.

With a last feeling of grief slowly fading away into what was no more than sadness, he then found some servants and ordered them to remove Elysande's belongings and bring his old bed back into his old bedroom.

He did not head for his office after that. Instead, he put on a coat and hat and left his house, alone and without any servant, heading down Market Street with swift steps.

There, at the marketplace, he visited the shop of the master carpenter he had summoned to mend his cello. He had not given the other items in the shop any notice as he had been here last time, but this time, he had a closer look and had to admire the craftsmanship of those carvings the man had made from odd bits and pieces of leftover wood. He bought one.

And he did not care whatsoever if anyone should think it strange that the governor of Curacao should walk the streets of Wilhelmstad, clad in the black of mourning, yet carrying a small wooden horse under his arm.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

Still smiling with the memories of Ruben's screech of delight at the sight of the wooden horse, Lucas left the nursery only to run into Herman on the way to his office.

"Herman?"  
"Are you receiving today, milord?"  
"I was on my way to my office, Herman."  
Herman nodded. "You have someone waiting, milord."  
"I am on my way." He did not ask as he passed his servant by and headed for the stairs. He turned left and into the corridor leading to his office and saw that indeed, someone was sitting on one of the chairs, legs crossed and hat resting on the knees.

He stopped dead as she looked up.

"Governor", Imogen said and rose. She tried to smile, but it looked a little strained.  
"Captain Sparrow?"  
"In person." She shrugged. "I apologize for my long absence..."  
Lucas managed to rally himself. "Let us discuss this in my office and not between frame and door in the hallway." He opened the door to his office and she followed him in.

"Take a seat", he said as he sat down, folding his hands in his desk.  
"Thank you, sir." Imogen sat down.  
"And now, if you would be so kind as to elaborate your absence?"  
Imogen swallowed. "I..." She licked her lips. "I had the feeling that after my last departure, I wouldn't be welcome here anymore and thought it a good idea to... stay out of the way for a while."

"And what, if I may ask, made you think so?"  
She looked at her hands. "I was a little... I got a bit carried away and I... I realise I should have chosen my words a little more carefully."  
"Maybe."  
She looked up. "Maybe?"  
"Maybe, Captain. Maybe you should have chosen your words more carefully. But maybe your choice of words was perfectly sensible. To you at least."  
Imogen shrugged again. "I am not quite sure. They made sense to me... however, I am aware they made not as much sense to you. I ask your forgiveness for... assuming that..."  
"Captain, I am sure there is nothing to forgive."  
"Not? If I remember correctly, you had to threaten me at one point with taking actions against my person if I wouldn't stop insulting you."  
"Indeed, that is correct."  
"So why..."  
"I am sure you did not mean to insult me in any way but were just desperate to make me see a point I failed to see."  
With a deep sigh, Imogen stared at her hands again. "Yes", was the only thing she answered.

"Captain", he said after a while. "Where have you been all the time?"  
"I planned to go to India first, but that would've taken me almost a year, most likely. We crossed the Atlantic instead and paid a visit to the Ivory Coast."  
"For any particular reason?"  
"No. None apart from..." She swallowed and clenched her fists. "We encountered a small slaver. We boarded him. Simply as that. I had all the slavers killed and we brought the Africans back home."  
He blinked.  
"Yes. I will fight slavery. I have done so all my life. And I shall do so until I die, if ever I can." She rose out of her chair. "Sorry to have taken so much of your time, Governor. I shall keep my schedule from now on. Thank you also for not... being cross with me anymore."  
"Captain... I was not..."  
She smiled thinly. "Then I must have misunderstood the cold look in your eyes, Governor.

He did not know what to reply to this.

"Is this everything?"  
Obviously, she wanted to get away from his presence. He couldn't say he blamed her. "This is all for now, Captain. I bid you a good day."  
She nodded again and headed for the door.  
"Captain?"  
"Governor?" She didn't turn around.  
He took a deep breath and spoke, very softly, yet very deliberately, the words she would the least likely expect to hear. "I cast my eyes upon the stars."

And at this, she turned around, a look of sheer disbelief in her eyes yet a reluctant smile slowly spreading on her face. "And they shall guide my way to freedom", she whispered in response, her eyes moist.  
He smiled at her. "They shall, Captain", he said, likewise in a whisper. Before Imogen stepped through the door, he added, still whispering: "They shall guide me to freedom... when they shine at noon."  
She closed the door, but with a slight hesitation. He was sure she had heard his last words.

He wasn't even sure why he had said those words. But it was clear that she seemed upset... And with a heavy sigh, he thought that maybe he should not have said them.

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

After their long time on sea, Imogen had given both crews a generous amount of shore leave, and that, of course, included herself. The Gulden beckoned once again, and as Imogen was wallowing in the tub filled with hot water, she still tried to make sense out of the last conversation with the governor.

_"I am sure you did not mean to insult me in any way but were just desperate to make me see a point I failed to see."_

He had, for all it seemed, truly seen her point. Had he? He had known the words, at least. But had he meant them? She had no way to tell... other than spying on his slaves and servants herself. But what reason should he have to lie to her?

She sighed and dived a little deeper into the water. Maybe she had not been wrong. Maybe he _was_ a good man. Maybe he just had been unable to see the wrongs until someone had pointed them out.

It made her feel strangely happy to know that it had been her who had brought someone else over to their side.

She went to bed that night, glowing from hot water and the feeling that she had been able to make him see. _He is a good man,_ she thought. _There's no doubt about that. _

_"I am only a man..."_

"Yes. But you're a good man." She smiled a sad little smile to herself. "You are the man you are. The man I love. Still, after all that time. If only..." Imogen closed her eyes and sighed.

_"They shall guide me to freedom... when they shine at noon."_

She had no clue why he had said those words. But they had sent a cold shiver down her spine. So cold that even now, remembering it, all the warmth of the bath drained away from her body, leaving her feel cold and alone once again.

* * *

1: Farewell, Elysande, my angel. Farewell. 

_Saying Goodbye to a loved one is not the same as forgetting them or ceasing to think of them. It's simply a way of owning the loss, integrating it, accepting its restrictions and saying yes to life without the one who has died._ Joyce Hugett, English author


	67. Chapter 65

**Chapter 65**

Due to the long shore leave Imogen had given herself and the crew in November, she had let the governor know that she would not be back in mid December as she would only set off around the fifth of that month. He had accepted this with his usual polite, almost disinterested manner and she had left him wondering if she had imagined him looking strangely at her. Did he suspect her of not coming back for months on end again? Maybe so. And with good reason. Not that she planned to do so again. Just by the fact that she had done it before.

But even though she was seriously tempted to go to India after all, she did not do so, and if only for the reason that she did not want to do it to her crew. True, they were all sailors, they were all used to being at sea for months, but also had many of them families in either Tortuga of Wilhelmstad, and even though that might not stop a captain from taking the course he wanted, it did stop Imogen. She had promised Frans they would be regularly in Wilhelmstad. They had not complained about being absent for months the first time. They might the next time, and she had no desire to go there. She felt better if she could blindly rely on her crew and making them grumble due to her not holding her promises was not a good move, regarding that.

Maybe she was being too sentimental. Maybe she was just...

She sighed and closed her fingers around the wheel. Maybe she was just a big sissy, pampering her crew.

Equipped with these fine uplifting thoughts, she made her way to the governor's residence in mid January.

He greeted her politely. "Good afternoon, Captain."  
"Governor."  
"How have your ventures been?  
Imogen shrugged. "The usual."  
He lifted his eyebrows a little with a questioning look in his eyes, but as Imogen didn't go into any detail, for there was nothing to tell, he leaned forward and picked up a letter.

"Captain Sparrow", he said. "I do not know how familiar you are with the diplomat's game of smiling at each other while kicking their shins black and blue under the table. I will therefore keep it short and not bother you with the details of this letter. It comes from a very high English authority here in the Caribbean."  
Imogen leaned back and frowned.  
The governor looked at the letter again and seemed to look for a certain passage. "Here it is..." He flashed Imogen a look. "I assume, and with good reason, I might say, that this was sent by none other than Governor Burke himself."  
"Burke?"  
"You are not familiar with that name?"  
"No." She crossed her arms.  
"Burke is the governor of Port Royal, Captain."  
"Oh."

"Indeed. Of course, there is no sender. Yet by the way the letter is set up, especially what it concerns, I can only assume this. As to what it regards, Captain, he is equally vague. Yet knowing the facts, I can, again only assume one thing."  
"Governor?" He seemed to be enjoying himself.  
"In short words, Captain..."  
"In undiplomatic language for the simple mind..."  
"If you want to put it like this..."  
"Governor van Huuiten, please get to the point."

He shot her a sour look, as if she had truly spoilt a delicate game he had been enjoying. "Very well." He leaned back and looked at her again. "They want the Dusky Hawk back, Captain."  
Imogen stared at him. "They want..?"  
"They want the Dusky Hawk back. I might point out that after you captured the frigate, your identity was spread so they know who has it. And after you used her to save Wilhelmstad from the English invasion force, they know where she is. But to admit that a frigate of war, fully manned and equipped and, I might add, brand new, had been commandeered by a simple privateer working for a small colony somewhere at the edge of their vision..." He smiled a savoury little smile. "They cannot, of course. But they know, and they want her back. They do, in fact, offer a considerable sum for her."

"They want to buy her back?"  
"I am sure the better term to use here would be ransom, Captain."  
Imogen took a deep breath and stared at the table top before her.  
"Captain, I hope you realise that even while they offer the ransom to Holland, namely, Curacao, namely, me, it is your very person who will receive the money. You have made that ship your own, after all and I am sure I do not have to press the point that it was your merit, courage and fortune that did so."  
"Merit? Courage? Fortune?" Imogen shook her head with a lopsided smile. "Desperation, Governor. Sheer desperation."  
He tilted his head.  
"We had no choice. The frigate had shot the Albatross to splinters under our arses, and we could either sink with her and drown like rats or try and board her, which would either result in success or us being shot, which at the end of the day, doesn't make a difference, but is much more preferable a death than drowning."  
He stared at her for a while. "You boarded a frigate... from a sinking ship? You omitted that fact when you gave the account to the council, Captain.""I didn't think that relevant, Governor."  
"Well, they do say that modesty is a virtue, Captain."  
Imogen shrugged.

"Be that as it may", the governor said after a moment. "The offer is standing. Port Royal offers a considerable amount for the Dusky Hawk, which is yours to take should you decide to give her up."  
"Governor", Imogen gave back after a while. "If I did so, would I not lay a weapon against Holland's or Curacao's throat if I give them the ship back?"  
"You might", he said simply. "I was given reassurance that she was set into the Caribbean as a pirate hunter, and that she will continue to be one. You might find it worth knowing that England and Holland have met on the fields of war already back in Europe. This affects the colonies, of course. But the colonies are far away and the ships are needed back home. To put it bluntly: Port Royal is running very low in its defences. The largest part of the navy stationed there has been recalled home. I am sure you are aware that the governor of Port Royal would not make such an offer if he was not absolutely desperate. He can count on little support from back home to defend his colony. As little as Curacao can, Captain. But Curacao is out of the way of the major shipping lines and thus, far less endangered to fall victim to pirates or invasive forces."  
"Invasive forces? Does Holland plan a revenge for the attack on Wilhelmstad?"  
"As far as I am aware, no. As I said, the battlefields back home are of more concern to Wilhelm at the moment than the colonies."  
"I see."  
"If you wish, then you can have a few days time to think this through. But as this is a delicate matter that cannot be discussed and planned openly, I was informed that there will be a trusted man to Governor Burke waiting for the Dusky Hawk in Tortuga between the twentieth of January and the twentieth of February. He will also hand you the ransom."

Imogen nodded. "How will find him? Will he find me?"  
"I'd dare say the latter, Captain."  
Imogen nodded again.  
"You sound as if you had already made up your mind."  
"Seems like", she gave back with a shrug. "It is a great feeling, to command such a ship. But she's huge, and sluggish. She's not really a pirate vessel. She's incredibly fast when you run before the wind, but to perform complicated manoeuvres, she's just too big for that. She can take a lot, too, and she's so stuffed with cannons that she could shoot anyone to pulp..." She shrugged again. "But in the end, I prefer something a bit more nimble under me."  
"So you agree?"  
"I do."

"Very well." He looked at her again. "In that case, I suggest you better make your way to Tortuga soon."  
"I shall leave tomorrow, Governor."  
"I see you when you come back, Captain. I do want to know how things went."  
"As soon as I am back."  
The governor nodded and leaned back. "I thank you for your cooperation. It might be handy to have Burke owe me a favour."  
"Does that work when you're at war?"  
"Captain, you might remember the phrase I used at the beginning of our little conversation."  
"The one about smiling at each other while kicking each other's shins?"  
"Exactly", he replied with a fine smile. Then he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. "This is all for now, I gather. I bid you a good day, Captain."  
"The same to you, Governor." Imogen rose and took her hat. "I will see you in a few weeks."

On the way back to her ship, Imogen realised that as soon as she would reach Tortuga, she would have to put some serious effort in rearranging the crew. She did not want to simply get rid of the men who sailed on the Dusky Hawk under her, and neither went for the men of the Windhunter. She would have to choose whom to keep and whom to dismiss. She wasn't looking forward to that, but then, when had been the last time that she had reason to look forward to anything?

**x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x ****x**

After instructing the crew that if anyone should want anything of her they should come and find her in the Golden Anchor, Imogen made her way to the inn with mixed feelings. Not because she was reluctant to part from the Dusky Hawk. More because she felt reluctant to part with the majority of her men. And yes, she would miss this little piece of invincibility that steering the large frigate had induced in her. But all in all, her words to the governor had been true.

She ordered herself a bath and a meal up to her room when she had booked herself into the Anchor, deciding that she did not want any company for now. Yet after the bath and the meal, she found herself lacking a drink and went back downstairs to equip herself.

As soon as she reached the taproom, however, Imogen heard someone hail her. She spun around. "Jack?"  
"Imi, luv." He grinned. "How's it going?"  
"Better already", she gave back with a smile. "What brings ye here?"  
"Important business, luv. Do ye have a room here?"  
"Aye, I have. Want to come upstairs with me"  
"Indeed I do."  
"Just let me get something to drink."  
"A plan that I can only totally agree to, darling."

Still smiling, Imogen ordered four bottles of rum and equipped with those, she and Jack made their way upstairs.

"So", Imogen said after they had sat down at the table in her room. "Now I'm about to burst with curiosity."  
Jack took a sip of his bottle. "Uh... you have to give the Anchor credit for their cellar. That is fine stuff."  
"Dad."  
Jack grinned. "Sorry. You want to know why I am here?"  
"Aye, and I want to know especially because you didn't want to talk about it downstairs."  
"That is because, luv, I am here on a very important mission. So to speak of, a very important mission in secrecy as to bring back something that has been lost but that has not been admitted lost and is now being admitted back home even if it hasn't officially been lost and no one has admitted anything and no one ever will."  
Imogen blinked. "You?" She was, of course, as his daughter and having grown up with the man, familiar with his occasional no-sense nonsense sentences.

"Aye. Although officially, I'm not here, of course. Officially, I'm in... now where was I again..." He took a sip of rum and his face lightened up. "Trinidad. Officially, I'm in Trinidad."  
"And why Trinidad?"  
"Because Trinidad is where the most smugglers are, luv. Ye know that there's more smugglers in Trinidad than fleas on a dog. There's nothing that ye can't get in Trinidad. So ye can even get something in Trinidad that isn't even there because it's somewhere else."  
"Ah. You're supposed to... find... the Hawk in Trinidad?"  
"No. I'm supposed to find someone who can arrange a meeting with the new owner of the Hawk to meet... him... here in Tortuga. No one is supposed to know how that exact canal of information is flowing."  
"I see."

They drank in silence for a while.

"So you are the man whom the governor of Port Royal entrusts his frigate?"  
Jack grinned. "Aye, the honourable merchant McGuyre."  
"But... you are going to give it back, don't you?"  
"Imi, luv, ye hurt me."  
"Sorry, dad." She felt her cheeks burn and stared at her bottle. "I..."  
"Ach, darling, I was but jesting!"  
Imogen looked up somewhat hesitatingly, but when she found Jack flash her a bright, glittering grin, she had to smile.

"Of course I'm going to give it back. Gentleman of honour that I am."  
"Gentleman of honour." Imogen grinned. "Can't recognise you sometimes, Jack."  
"Well." Jack took a sip of his rum. "I can return that compliment, Imogen."  
Imogen raised her eyebrows.  
"See", Jack said, leaning back and crossing his legs. "I remember that wild, unruly girl. Must admit I haven't done a good job in teaching ye manners, but be that as it may..." He winked and Imogen relaxed her forehead again. "Be that as it may. Ye've changed a lot, Imogen. Ye've grown. Ye're wiser than yer years, that's for sure. I know ye, girl. I know ye well, I might say. And when I look at ye, I get the feeling that sometimes, there's a woman looking at me twice yer age." The humour was gone from both his voice and his eyes.  
Imogen shrugged. "The last couple of years haven't been all easy, dad."  
"Doubtlessly, no." Jack took a sip of rum. "Is there anything I could do to cheer ye up?"

With a smile, Imogen shook her head. "Thanks, dad, but no." Then she sighed. "It's true that time heals everything. But what's also true that no amount of time can do anything about the scars."  
Jack blinked. He had never seen his daughter so solemn or sad. "Imi... is everything all right with ye?"  
"No." She took a swig from her bottle. "No, I wish there was something ye could do, but there's nothing anyone can do to make someone fall out of love."  
Jack pursed his lips. "Are ye still plagued by that... man of higher standing?"  
"Aye. I'm sorry, dad, I don't want to talk about this, really."  
"Sorry, luv."

Another while in silence passed.

"Jack?"  
"Aye?"  
"How's the family?"  
Jack smiled. "Everything's fine. Josh's thriving and giving us one heart attack after the other. He's afraid of nothing; he climbs everything and stops at nothing. Stubborn as a mule. Spit of his mum, really."  
At this, Imogen had to smile, too. "I'm so glad he's happy."  
Jack's smile grew softer. "So are we all, luv."  
Imogen stared out of the window. "How's Elizabeth, then? And Billy?"  
"Oh, Lizzie's fine. Billy's fine, too, and Louise is expecting. About May, I think, is she due."  
"Give him my regards and congratulations, will ye", Imogen said then with a small smile. "And to Louise, of course."  
"Will do."

After another moment of silence, Imogen looked at Jack again. "So when do ye plan to pick up the Hawk?"  
"Whenever ye're ready, luv."  
"Aye. Give me..." She frowned. "Give me three days from tomorrow. I need to sort out the crew. Then come and see me on the Hawk."  
"Aye, I'll do that." Jack got up. "See ye then, luv."  
"Good night, dad."  
"Night."

After Jack had gone, Imogen walked over to the window and stared out for a while. No, there wasn't any charm or any potion that could make you fall out of love. For if such a thing would have existed, then Imogen would have given all her fortune and her second ship to get her hands on such a blessing.


	68. Chapter 66

**Chapter 6****6**

Sorting out her crew had proved to be easier than Imogen had thought. Most of the men had simply stayed on the Hawk, and the few who had followed her had accompanied her onto the Windhunter where she had, after conferring with Niels, dismissed only a handful of men. All and by, with Uettersen's men among those who remained with her and her recruiting several times in Curacao, most of the Windhunter's crew was now Dutch.

They arrived back in Wilhelmstad at the end of March, as Imogen had taken the long route back to see if they wouldn't encounter some suitable target for Imogen to practise steering the Windhunter. She had never been at the helm of the ship herself. Niels, who had been more than glad to have his old position as a first mate back, was giving her useful hints as to how to steer her and Imogen found that the Windhunter was much more to her liking than the huge frigate had been. She did not regret having given the Dusky Hawk away.

She reported back to the governor who took the news about the successful transfer with an unmoving face and some words of praise for her merit and her loyalty to the Dutch Empire, and stressed again how big a service her sacrifice had been.

That night, as she sat in the taproom of Wilhelm's Gulden (she had felt she deserved the treat), Imogen sipped listlessly at her drink and pondered the past events again. Yes, she had given the Dusky Hawk up, but a sacrifice... no, a sacrifice was not really how it felt to her. She had sacrificed things in her life that had been worth far more to her than the ship.

Deciding that she wanted to be alone, she left the taproom and headed for her room where she finished the bottle in silence and solitude, still pondering the thoughts and the memories.

There had been a time, a short time, when she had believed that sacrificing her son had brought her the man she loved. But he had been taken away again. Not for the first time she asked herself if she simply should have stayed with Billy, or at least with Jack and Elizabeth. True, she had as much knowledge about being a lady and a mother as a cow had a notion about Sundays, but she would have been able to keep her child. And now, after she had given him up because she couldn't have imagined herself doing it, staying with Billy, she had nothing. She had lost her son and the man she loved.

And as she stood there and stared out of the window, she prayed to god that at least he should be happy again."Please make him happy. Please, grant him the chance to go home again." She bit her lip. "I wish I could have him back. I want him back, but I won't ask for anything that isn't mine to ask for. But I'd give anything, everything I still have to be with him again. But even if I can't have him, please, make him happy again."

**x x x x x x x x**

Some weeks later, a mail runner arrived, coming from St Eustatius.

By sheer chance, Lucas stood at the window of his private study and looked out, across the streets and roofs towards the harbour, and saw the sloop swiftly crossing the harbour bay and head for the piers. As it was his habit to deal with news and mail as freshly as it arrived, he made his way to his office again.

Yet as he sat down at his desk, he realised that he was waiting for news from Amsterdam. Dismayed, he leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. It was still too early for that kind of news, he scolded himself. Yes, it was April, and thus the earliest possibility for a ship to have made the crossing, but there was absolutely no...

The door opened and Lucas jumped out of his chair. "Admiral van Dijk!"  
Van Dijk smiled grimly. "Governor van Huuiten. I must say it feels good to be back."  
"Admiral..." Lucas swallowed. "You are back early."  
"Indeed. And we had a bastard's luck with the weather." The admiral walked up to Lucas' desk and dropped a large bundle of letters there, then picked the top three ones and held those out to him. "News, Governor. News from Amsterdam."

Lucas realised that his hands were shaking as he took the letters, yet he did not yet break any seals but looked at the admiral instead.

"And I might add, good news. The court was very surprised, but positively so, at our meticulous research and preparation of all evidence."  
"So the... the verdict has been spoken?" Lucas' hands shook even more.  
"Indeed it has, Governor. I suggest you sit down and read through it. Yet I thought it... let us say, a good idea, to make haste in coming back even if the case was far from being closed. The first part of it has. There are others involved, back in the homelands. They will be dealt with, but the first verdicts have been spoken. And executed."

Taking a deep breath, Lucas looked at the admiral again.

"I can only say, Governor, that you avoid torturing subjects with good reason. I did not leave de Baanstedt's side the whole time, to... witness the interrogations. And the judges in Amsterdam have a very short patience with men who refuse to give testimony. It... it wasn't very nice."  
Lucas nodded. "So de Baanstedt has finally confessed?"  
"He has, although it took some weeks." The admiral shook his head. "But in the end, he confessed. All the accounts are in those documents I brought you. He and both Teerstegen and Suenens were then sentenced upon those words and all the evidence we gathered. I watched him hang with my own eyes, Governor. And after that I left the court and harassed the captain of the nearest mail runner into bringing me back. That wasn't easy, but as you might know, I am a very stubborn man."

Finding no words, Lucas stared at the admiral's face, with a racing heart.

"Governor", the admiral said. "We made it. You made it. Her murderer is in his grave."  
Both men exchanged a long silent glance.  
"Thank you, admiral", Lucas finally managed.  
The admiral nodded. "You can put her soul to rest. And yours."  
With another deep breath, Lucas slowly turned around and walked over to the window. "I shall, Admiral. God knows it has taken long enough."

**x x x x x x x x**

After the admiral had left him, Lucas found himself wandering through the hallways again. But this time, he had a course. He slowly opened the door to the room where he kept Elysande's ashes and looked at the urn for a long time. Then he walked across the room and sat down on one of the chairs.

"I know that revenge would never have been a notion of your soul, Elysande", he said in a low voice. "Revenge never serves the ones who have died. They serve the ones who have been left behind. I wanted revenge, by God, I wanted revenge badly enough, but never for your sake. It was always clear to me that I wanted revenge for my own peace of mind. Maybe to comfort myself about the fact that I had been unable to protect and save you."

He looked at his hand, and the bare third finger where he had worn his wedding ring.

"You told me to let you go, that night in my dream. I remember well that you told me with your last dying breath to embrace life again and that you wished me to be happy. I do not know if I can ever be happy again, and you know why. But I promise you I shall make sure that our son will not make the same mistakes as I did."

Had that been a good thing to say? Maybe it had only come out wrong...

"Never believe I regretted the fact that you came into my life, never. But I do wish you had come a year earlier, and everything would have been so much easier..." He sighed. "For all of us. And I think you can only agree to that. But I shall make sure that Ruben knows the importance of both doing your duty and listening to your heart. And hopefully, if it ever comes to pass with him to make such a decision, he will make the right one. I cannot say if I made the right one. It brought me you, and it brought me Ruben. But it also took something from me, a part of my soul, and I would never have my son suffer like that if I could avoid it. I think you understand."

She probably did. She most likely did. She had been the most understanding and caring soul Lucas had ever met. She would understand.

**x x x x x x x x**

Imogen was not a little surprised when the next morning, after the day she had called on the governor in April, a messenger sought her out and told her that the governor would like to speak to her. Puzzled and wondering what it might be this time, she made her way to his residence, wondering all the way what he could want from her.

He was not sitting at his desk but standing beside the window as she entered his office. "Ah, good morning, Captain Sparrow. Thank you for attending so quickly."  
"What is the matter, Governor?" Something seemed out of place.  
"Captain, I have god news from Amsterdam. Please, take a seat."  
Imogen sat down, still trying to figure out what was so odd.  
"Captain", the governor began. "I have several items of good news, in fact. Let me start with those regarding your own person." He picked up a letter and a small parcel, so small that it fit into the palm of his hand. "In acknowledgement of your merit in saving the Governor's life, and in helping to capture those responsible, Wilhelm sends not only his regards but also a promotion, Captain." He held out the little box to her and Imogen took it with a frown. She opened it and found, inside, another of those small orders that she already had one of, marking her as Luitenant ter zee. She cast the governor a questioning look.

"I congratulate you, Captain Sparrow. You have been advanced into the rank of a Kapiteen ter zee."  
Imogen blinked. "I have?"  
"You have." He smiled. "Congratulations."  
He smiled? When had she last seen him smile? "Why... thank you, Governor."  
She pinned the order to her coat, next to the other one, noticing that her hands were trembling. What was going on here? What was wrong?

"You do not look very cheerful, Captain." He frowned.  
Imogen shrugged. "I... I must admit that I find it hard to keep up with this... my rising in society, I mean."  
The governor lifted his eyebrows.  
"I mean... I can't really say I know how... I do not really know how to be a ... whatever, man, woman, of society."  
"Oh, so far you have done quite well, Captain", he replied. "Even if you lack the breeding and the education, you should be fine."  
"I haven't got a clue."  
"Captain, how to behave in society is not witchcraft." He shook his head with a faint smile. "Just a few simple things, really: You do not slouch in chairs, you keep yourself straight, you eat with a knife and fork..."  
"I can bloody well eat with a knife and..."  
"And you will watch your language", the governor ended rather sharply.  
Imogen wasn't quite sure if she had seen or imagined the tiny twitch around the corners of his mouth, so she rather stared at her hands. "Sorry, sir."  
The governor sighed but did not reply.

"The other piece of good news regards the murder of my late wife", the governor said then as she looked up again. "It seems that our preparation has paid off, Captain. Admiral van Dijk returned yesterday and brought me the news in person. Elysande's murderer is dead, Captain. He hanged, like the traitor that he was."  
Imogen took a deep breath. "And it was him who wanted you dead?"  
"Indeed. He wanted me out of the way so I could not spot the activities of his accomplices here in Wilhelmstad, seeing as I did so before in Amsterdam. He also wanted you out of the way, for no other reason that you were a major inconvenience to him. It seemed that as long as you were working for me, or in my vicinity, his plans would be bound to fail."  
"I see", Imogen answered with a lopsided smile. "So... with her murderer dead, Elysande can finally rest in peace."  
He looked at her and nodded. "Indeed. Her soul has been put to rest. As has my own."  
Imogen blinked.

Leaning back, the governor looked at her very earnestly. "I have mourned her for a year and a day, as is behoving and proper. And I continued to mourn her as I swore to myself I would see her murderer into his grave. Sadly enough, I did not see him die, but I take the admiral's words and the documents he provided me with for how he died. And now, with her murderer finally in his grave, I have put her soul to rest, although I'd dare say that if there is any soul who would not think about revenge, even for her own life, then it would be her."  
Remembering Elysande's deed and her sacrifice, Imogen could not meet his eyes.  
"But now, I can finally put my own soul to rest. It was me who found no rest in having been unable to protect her and save her life."  
"I don't think you should blame yourself, Governor." Imogen bit her lip as she looked at him again."Maybe I should indeed, not. I had no way of knowing that a love letter de Baanstedt had sent to a lady here was in truth a concealed message that held instructions to kill you, Captain. I had the proof sitting on my desk. I could have known, had I thought about a coded message. But I did not, and nothing will ever change the fact that I did not spot the code. The admiral did."  
Imogen stared at him. "I can imagine that was a bitter experience, to discover that."  
"Bitter, indeed." He smiled a very strange smile. "But I cannot undo the past. All that is left now is to look forward.  
Not knowing what to reply to that, Imogen only nodded.

"Captain", he said then. "Can we celebrate this victory... with a drink?"  
Imogen felt her heart suddenly begin to race as she watched him get up. "Governor... I don't really..."  
"I insist." He smiled again and Imogen rose and, following him to his backdoor, finally realised what had struck her as so odd for the whole time: The waistcoat and vest he was wearing were of a light blue colour.

He was not wearing the black of mourning any more.

With weak and trembling legs, she followed him upstairs.


	69. Chapter 67

**Chapter 6****7**

Unable to find any words, she stood beside the table and dropped her hat, watching him silently as he opened the cabinet and poured two drinks. She reached for the glass he held out to her, but at that moment noticed that the liquid in the glass was moving. Trembling. His hands were trembling. She took the glass and looked up at his face. He smiled, but it suddenly looked a little strained.

They both had a few sips in silence. They emptied their glasses in silence. Obviously, neither of them knew what to say.

"Captain", he finally said into the uncomfortable silence, after both of them had put their glasses down. "I... I do not quite know how to begin." He cleared his throat and searched her eyes. "I know that..." Then he licked his lips. "I know that it has been more than two years and a half now, almost three. It is a long time." He shook his head. "A long time."  
Imogen took a deep breath and bit her lips. "I see." Then she swallowed. "I... I understand." She clumsily took a step back. "I never..." Then she shrugged. "I never thought... I understand. I'd better go, then."  
Lucas blinked as he watched her retreat, but as she reached the door, he finally found his speech again. "Captain!"  
"Yes?" Imogen hesitatingly turned around.  
"Don't go", he said. "You..." He looked at the table. "You forgot your hat."

They exchanged a long, silent glance before Imogen managed to unfreeze herself. Biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling, she walked back towards the table where he still stood.

"Captain", Lucas said. "I... Please, listen to me. What I meant was... what I meant was that three years is a long time and I... I would not blame you... if you had..." He swallowed and suddenly, could not meet her eyes any more. "If you had forgotten."  
"Forgotten?" Her heart racing inside her chest, Imogen stared at him. "Forgotten?" She shook her head.  
He pressed his lips together and Imogen could see his jaws work. She could even see the sinews in his neck work, so hard was he gritting his teeth as he stared at her with eyes widening more and more. "I... I have..." He began and swallowed. "I have... I have forgotten some things. I have... I could not hold on to all those memories. But there is one thing that I have never forgotten." He took a deep breath and took a step forward. This close, Imogen could see a vein in his neck throbbing.

Still shaking his head, Lucas hesitatingly reached out for her face, realising how much his hands were trembling. "I have not forgotten... one thing... I have never forgotten..." He broke off and tried to calm his racing breathing. "Imogen...", he whispered. He had a lump in his throat that was so big it hurt, but he did not fail to see that she started to tremble at his use of her name. "Imogen... may I kiss you?"

With her heart now beating so frantically that she had the feeling her chest had to burst any minute, Imogen could only stare at him, but only as she saw him swallow and shake his head did she realise that she also had narrowed her eyes and furrowed her forehead.  
He turned around. "I am sorry", he muttered hastily. "I am sorry... I should not... I was..."  
She swallowed. "No..." She took a breath that was more a gasp. "No... Lucas..."  
He spun around again, his eyes even wider as before.  
"Lucas", Imogen whispered, her voice trembling. "I..." She shook her head and bit her lower lip. "Kiss me..."

Lucas took another rasping breath as he reached out with trembling, shaking hands and touched her cheek. A sound that was almost a sob escaped her lips and he himself felt so weak in the legs that he hardly dared to take another step. He did, however, and touched her other cheek with his other hand. With hesitating, almost fearful moves, he brought his head forward, his breathing ragged, but then, so was hers.

And then, their lips touched. It was an awkward, clumsy touching of lips, as if both of them had never kissed before. Both of them were trembling from head to toe, and Lucas leaned forward again and touched her lips again with his. And this time, they both seemed to remember. She opened her lips to him and he kissed her, carefully, hesitatingly, almost afraid she would vanish under his touch like another dream.

Imogen felt close to fainting when their lips touched again. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe she was just going mad... but his lips felt so exactly as she remembered them, so soft and tender for a man... because he had never been to sea and his lips were not roughened, chapped and tanned by sea and sun. So soft... so tender...

He broke the kiss and leaned back.

Breathing even more raggedly, he leaned back and stared at her with trembling lips. Imogen had never seen him so beside himself and could only blink as he suddenly lost his control over his face completely.

He gasped for air and covered his face with his hands. "I'm sorry..." he rasped. "I... Forgive me... Forgive me..." Then, to her utter dismay, he slowly toppled to his knees, his face still buried in his hands, and broke down crying, weeping with the hoarse, rusty sobs of a man unused to tears and ashamed of them.  
Watching him, her own face wet with tears, Imogen sank down to her knees in turn. "Lucas..."  
He dropped his hands but did not look at her. "I am sorry... forgive me... But I... I had forgotten the taste of your kisses..."  
"I don't blame you." Imogen wiped a hand across her eyes. "You had someone else, didn't you? You couldn't help it..." She wiped her eyes again. "But I have forgotten nothing. I haven't forgotten a single thing, not how your hair feels under my hands and not how your lips feel on mine, and I haven't even forgotten the scent of your skin..."  
He finally looked up again, his eyes still red and his cheeks still wet. "The scent of my skin?" His face was somewhere between a smile and a stare. "What... what do I smell of?"  
Imogen shrugged. "Violets and lavender", she whispered with a smile.  
Lucas blinked. "How... how do you know?"  
"I found a soap maker in Amsterdam. I had a look at the soaps, and one of them smelled so familiar... it smelled of you. And I asked the woman and she told me. I even bought the piece... as a..." She shrugged again, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "As a keepsake... so to say."

Lucas shook his head with a tiny smile and reached out to touch her cheek again and with a deep breath, Imogen leaned forward a little, and a little more, brushing his cheek with hers. Half embarrassed, half amused, Lucas realised that she was... sniffing at his skin. She was inhaling his scent. "Imogen?"  
"Violets and lavender", she whispered and leaned back, fresh tears spilling out of her eyes.  
He tried to smile, but he still had to fight his own tears. "Imogen", he whispered. "What is it your kisses taste of?"  
"I don't know... what do they taste like?"  
"I do not know", he gave back with an embarrassed smile. "There is a strange, sweet and spicy taste that I cannot identify..."  
Imogen blinked. "It must be the spiced rum", she said with a shrug and a smile. "I put cinnamon in it and vanilla, and a bit of nutmeg... And I like to chew bits of the cinnamon bark when it's been soaked in the rum for a while..."  
"Cinnamon?" Lucas shook his head. "Cinnamon. I had forgotten... I was so upset, but I could not remember..."  
Imogen took a deep breath and leaned forward some more. "In that case...", she whispered and noticed that his breathing quickened as much as hers. "In that case, you better make sure you won't forget it again in a hurry."

He smiled and leaned a little bit forward, yet Imogen suddenly reached out with narrowed eyes, and, before he could move or say something, plucked the wig off his head and threw it across the room onto the divan.  
Lucas followed the trajectory of the wig with his eyes, a lopsided smile on his face. "You do hate that particular item of wardrobe, don't you."  
Imogen thrust out her chin. "With a passion." Then she chuckled and buried her hands into his hair.

Lucas had to close his eyes with a deep sigh and leaned forward even more, trying to calm his racing breath as he cautiously touched her cheek. "Captain, I want to make this absolutely clear." He opened his eyes again and saw that Imogen breathed as heavily as he himself did. "I want this understood", he whispered. "That as of now... you may..." He swallowed. "That as of now... you may meddle... with my wardrobe all you like."

Wide eyed and breathing raggedly, they both stared at each other for an endless moment before they both moved again and their lips crashed together in a soul-devouring kiss.

The world ceased as he buried his fingers into her hair while she dug her hands into his back. They had never kissed like that... never before with so much desperation, so much passion, and so much hunger.

Gasping for air, they broke the kiss after a while, and Imogen suddenly realised they were already groping at each other's clothing. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. "No..."  
He swallowed and stared at her, but she managed a smile, despite her short breath. "No... not like this..." She ran a hand down her face and then touched his cheek. "Not like this... I don't want to... devour you like a wild animal." She swallowed again, but now he managed a tiny smile, in return. "I want to... savour every single moment of it", Imogen whispered breathlessly and he smiled and nodded. For a moment, they just looked at each other, holding on to each other's arms.

"God, Lucas, I've missed you so much", Imogen suddenly sobbed, unable to stop her tears. "I've missed you so much..."  
"I have missed you too, Imogen", he replied and gently wiped a hand across her cheek. "I have missed you so much that it hurt." Then he shook his head. "Am I dreaming? Is this really happening? Do I have you back, finally... after so long a time?"  
She nodded, smiled, and then bit her lip again. "Lucas..." she whispered. "Lucas..." Another tear escaped her eye. "I love you..."  
His hands still trembling, Lucas reached out and touched her cheeks. "Imogen", he whispered, blinking more tears away. "Imogen... Ik hou van jou..." He shook his head in sheer disbelief. "Ik hou van jou, Imogen, mijn geliefde..." Then he pulled her close and locked his arms around her as tightly as he could while burying his face into her curls. "Ik hou van jou, Imogen, mijn Imogen, mijn schat, mijn lieveling, mijn schattebout, mijn kleine beer... ik hou van jou..."

For a while, they just knelt there, holding on as tightly to each other as they could before Lucas leaned back with a sigh and looked at her, loosening his grip a little. Imogen looked up into his tenderly smiling face.

"I shall not let you go again, Imogen", he said. "Never again shall I let anything come between us. No matter what, and no matter who. I shall not suffer something like this again, and if I end up a beggar in rags."  
Imogen blinked a few times and searched his eyes. "Have you ever tried to sleep rough in a gutter?"  
"No."  
"Then go easy on such words." She smiled, but he didn't.  
"No."  
Imogen touched his cheek again.  
"I will not have it, do you hear me? No matter what, no matter who, and no matter the cost to myself. I shall not be parted from you, ever again."  
With a sigh, Imogen smiled and shook her head. "My love..." she whispered. "Never again."  
"Never again." Lucas smiled in response and kissed her again, gently, tenderly, and after he released her lips he kissed her cheeks, kissing her tears away.

They exchanged another long look.

"Do you... do you maybe want another drink?", Lucas asked after a while.  
Imogen chuckled. "I don't want another drink. I need another drink."  
Smiling at those words, Lucas got up and helped her up in turn. He shook his head, still not quite believing that this was really happening, but he found that look mirrored in Imogen's face. He smiled, shook his head again and sighed. "Come here", he whispered and closed his arms around her again. Imogen stepped into his embrace with a sigh that was half a sob and buried her face into his shoulder as he locked his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. They held on to each other in desperate silence for a while before they slowly let go of each other again.

They both straightened down their clothes somewhat and Imogen watched him as he walked over to the cabinet with their glasses and refilled them again. Then she realised it had got a bit dark and looked out of the window. "There's going to be some weather coming down pretty soon, the way it looks outside."  
Lucas came back to her and pressed a glass into her hand. "A good thing, then..." he said and raised his glass, "...that you will not have to go back to your ship anytime soon."  
Imogen grinned and downed her brandy in one go. Yet instead of scolding her, he simply smiled and followed her lead. "Another one?"  
She nodded and he went back to refill the glasses. Imogen took hers and walked over to the window to look out. "Really some weather... it's pitch black outside."

Lucas smiled to himself as he refilled his own glass, but spun around when he heard her drop hers with a clatter. She was standing directly in front of the window, staring out... and her face was a pale mask of frozen horror.  
"Imogen?"  
"Lucas...", she whispered hoarsely. "Lucas... it's dark outside... but there's not a cloud in the sky..."  
Feeling a cold shiver trickle down his spine, Lucas hastily walked over to the window and followed her gaze outside.

The sky had the colour of dusk, a dark, deep purple, but she was right, there was hardly a cloud in the sky. The birds had stopped singing. Somewhere outside, in the streets, a woman screamed.

They exchanged a long, horrified glance.

Then they both simultaneously headed for the door. They ran down the corridor, hastened down the stairs, hurried through the hallway and emerged into the street where they slowed down. People were standing scattered all over the place, and all of them stared at the sky in an eerie silence.

Stepping closer to Lucas, Imogen hesitatingly lifted her eyes upwards. Lucas did likewise while at the same time putting an arm around her to pull her even closer to him. They stared into the purplish, dark blue sky and at the sun that was just now vanishing behind a dark, round orb that blocked its light completely, apart from a faint corona of light.

Imogen stared at the sky with a cold feeling of fear gripping her guts. She leaned a little closer against Lucas who, in turn, held her even tighter, both of them staring at the dark sky and the vanishing sun.

"God save us!" Someone screamed.

Imogen turned her head to see who was screaming, and then realised something else. Towards the western horizon, in the dark blue nothingness of the empty sky, the evening star had just appeared.

"Lucas...", she whispered, trembling all over. He looked down at her and followed her gaze, then stiffened as he saw what she saw.

The evening star, the single star gleaming in the undisturbed, dusky sky.

Behind them, the church clock struck the hour.

One... two... three...

_"__And if you promise me...__"_

Four... five... six...

_"__Imogen, I will...__"_

Seven... eight... nine...

_"__And if you promise me to marry me...__"_

Ten... eleven...

_"__Imogen, I will marry you...__"_

Twelve.

_"__...when the stars shine at noon...__"_

Lucas and Imogen exchanged a horrified glance for a second before Lucas removed his arm and grabbed her hand instead. They broke into another run, but they did not rush back inside. They ran down the street, up the Market Road and up the stairs. Still holding on to each other's hand, they ran across the marketplace and headed for the church where Father Aloysius stood, next to the open doors, holding a large, golden crucifix in both hands.

"Father!" Lucas called. "Father Aloysius!"  
The priest stared at the governor, racing across the marketplace, and holding on to Imogen's hand.  
"Father!" They reached the priest and tried to catch back their breath. Father Aloysius stared at them, out of breath, bedraggled, wig-less and slightly dishevelled. "Father, forgive me", Lucas said. "Forgive me!"  
"Son of Adam, what have you done?"  
Lucas swallowed. "I promised this woman to marry her... when the stars shine at noon."

Father Aloysius looked at his face for a while, then looked past him at the sky for he, too, had not failed to spot the evening star, just becoming visible as the clock above him had struck noon. He beckoned them inside and, still holding each other's hand, Imogen and Lucas followed the priest into the church, down the aisle, and stopped before the altar where the Father turned around to face them. The church was packed with people who had, in their anxiety, fled here in the hopes of sanctuary.

"Son of Adam, what have you done?", he asked again.  
"I promised this woman I would marry her when the stars shine at noon."  
"Why have you given such a promise?"  
"Because there was nothing else to give. I knew of all the barriers of society between us and that it could never be. Yet I wished for her to be mine and..."  
"I made him do it, Father."  
The priest moved his eyes to Imogen. "Daughter of Eve, what have you done?"  
"I asked him to make this promise. I wanted to make him mine, too, and I knew also that it could not be. But I wanted to be with him, and I thought... I thought about the last of all days, when the sun vanishes from the earth. I thought that then, we could be together for eternity if not in this life."  
"How long ago have you given this promise?"  
"More than two years ago now, Father." Lucas was still trying to calm his breathing, and he still could not quite shake off the feeling of horror at seeing the sun vanish from the sky in midday.  
"You have married another woman in the meantime."  
"I did my duty for my country, Father. I had no choice. I had to give up the woman I love to do my duty."  
"And now? Are you here now to fulfil that oath you have given so long ago?" Father Aloysius looked at Imogen, narrowed his eyes, and then looked back at Lucas.  
They both exchanged a glance, wide-eyed and still somewhat out of breath. "Yes", they answered simultaneously.

"Never have I heard of such a thing", the priest said. "But doubtlessly, God has put you two on a harsh trial. He has separated you and tested you for your strength. I know the temptations you have gone through. Both of you have come regularly to me to receive counselling under the seal of god. You have been put on a harsh trial, but you have both remained strong, you have both withstood the temptation of sin, you have both honoured the oaths given to God and mankind. And thus, because you have prevailed, God has granted you today the fulfilment of your oath." He raised his hands.

"You all heard what these two have said, and you all have witnessed what God is capable of. And as you are now willing to fulfil that oath, given because there was nothing else to give, I shall gladly fulfil God's promise to you."

He let his eyes wander across the gathered people in the church, all staring at the ongoings with eyes and mouths agape.

"And if there is anyone who thinks there is something that speaks against such a union, so shall he shut his mouth and remain silent forever." He raised his voice. "For what God has so obviously meant for each other, men shall not, and under no circumstances, put asunder!"

He looked at Lucas and Imogen again. Lucas slowly went onto his knees and, following the tug of his hands, Imogen followed his lead.

"I shall keep this short", the priest said simply. "After all, what are finery and a lot of words in the face of such as you and the events around you?"

Imogen and Lucas both stared at the priest who cleared his throat.

"Do you, Lucas Ignatius Erik van Huuiten, want to take the here present Imogen Magdalena Sparrow to be your wife, joined before god and mankind?"  
Lucas looked at Imogen and smiled. "Yes. I do."  
"And do you, Imogen Magdalena Sparrow, want to take the here present Lucas Ignatius Erik van Huuiten to be your husband, joined before god and mankind?"  
Imogen returned the smile, captured in Lucas' beautiful, silver eyes. "Yes. I do."  
"So be it. You have expressed willingness to be joined as husband and wife in holy matrimony. So you shall make your oaths." Then he frowned and gave both of them a questioning look. "The... rings?"

Lucas blinked, and then slowly looked down at his left hand where he still wore the sapphire mounted in silver. It took him some serious twisting, turning and pulling to get the ring off his finger, for he had worn it there for more than two decades now. He stared at his little finger and at the dent the ring had left in his flesh, and then, with a smile, looked at Imogen.

"This ring was given to me by my mother on her deathbed", he said. "She meant to give it to her daughter, but she had only sons, so she gave it to me, her youngest, her last son, with the words that I should... pass it on to the woman I love and marry once." He swallowed. "It has been handed down for generations in her family, from mother to daughter... as a charm... of good luck in love." Smiling tenderly down at her, he took Imogen's left hand in his and took a few breaths to calm his voice. "With this ring, I take you, Imogen Magdalena Sparrow, to be my beloved wife. I shall love you and protect you, care for you and stand by your side, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, unto death shall part us. So do I swear, and God is my witness." Then he slipped the ring onto her finger.

Imogen took a deep breath and chewed her lower lip before looking down at her right hand where she wore a ring on her thumb. Jack's ring, the ring that Billy had taken off his finger when he had stood on the gallows in Port Royal... he had never wanted it back. She took it off and stared at it. It was a skull, cast of solid silver, the surface worn smooth with all the years, but still recognisable a skull.  
"This ring..." She began, somewhat hesitatingly. "This ring was given to me by my father." She cleared her throat. "He had it from his father, who was the pirate lord of the Caribbean Sea before him. I don't know how many generations this is old..."  
"Pirate Lord?" Lucas had to smile. "So you are aristocracy, after all."  
Imogen smiled embarrassedly. "I don't really know if being a pirate lord counts as being an aristocrat... pirates in general are not very... aristocratic people." She looked at the ring again and up in Lucas' face. "I'm sorry... I don't have another ring..."  
"Imogen", he said gently. "If you give it to me, then I shall wear it proudly."

Imogen stared into his face for a few seconds, but then had to smile and took his left hand. "With this ring, I take you, Lucas Ignatius Erik van Huuiten, to be my beloved husband. I shall love you and protect you, care for you and stand by your side, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, unto death shall part us. So do I swear, and God is my witness." She slipped the ring onto his finger and realised it fit smugly, as if it had always belonged there.

The priest raised his voice again. "By the power bestowed upon me by our Lord, I hereby proclaim you husband and wife", he said. "Joined in the holy vows of matrimony before god and mankind, you shall be one flesh and one soul." Then he looked up and swept his gaze across the congregation. "As there are no witnesses present, I call upon the whole congregation to stand witness", he went on, but then a man in the second row got up. It was Doctor de Beer.

"I shall stand witness", he said. "I can stand witness for the groom, and for the bride as well, If need be." He stood next to Lucas and smiled down at the both of them.  
"I shall stand witness, too", another voice rang out from behind where another man got up and left the bench he was sitting on. "I shall stand witness for the bride", Admiral van Dijk said and positioned himself beside Imogen.  
The priest looked back and forth between the two men. "Very well. You have witnessed their oath and shall stand proof and word should anyone ever question God's blessing upon their union."  
"We will", both men answered.

"Hear the word of our Lord!" The priest called out and the congregation, the two witnesses and Imogen and Lucas bowed their heads for the prayer.

After the prayer, the priest spoke another blessing and sprinkled their joined hands with holy water.

Lucas got up and held his hand out to Imogen to help her up in turn. Both looked at each other, both still not quite believing what was happening with them, but both smiling.

"You may now kiss the bride", Father Aloysius said.

There was no veil to lift from her face, but Lucas reached out, picked up a stray curl of hair that had been teetering in front of Imogen's face with his forefinger and tucked it behind her ear. Then he leaned forward and met her lips with his.

After a few moments, the priest cleared his throat.

Lucas straightened up with a slightly embarrassed smile. Then he offered his arm to Imogen who slipped her arm through his, and they walked down the aisle and towards the doors that still stood open. But when they stepped through the door, they emerged into bright sunlight again, and when they looked up at the sky, the dark orb that had swallowed the sun was just vanishing. A breeze stirred the air and they both faced each other with a disbelieving stare.

"I'm still waiting to wake up", Imogen said after a while. "I've got the feeling I'm still dreaming."  
"It might be a dream", Lucas gave back. "Or it might not. But if this is a dream, then I never wish to wake up again." Then he smiled and kissed her again, pulling her into a tight embrace.  
"Oh god..." Imogen stared up into his smiling face after he broke the kiss. "What are we going to do now?"  
Lucas smiled. "Now? Now we go home." He let go of her and held out his hand again, and Imogen took it with a smile in return.


	70. Chapter 68

The poem is taken from Charlotte Bronte's _Jane Eyre_

**Chapter 68**

As they made their way back, no one gave them any notice; the people around them were still far too absorbed in the memories of the events, the vanishing and reappearing sun, to give them any thought. Had they done, however, neither Lucas nor Imogen would have noticed, or if so, certainly not cared. For they, too, were absorbed in their thoughts and memories of the last hour.

Lucas noticed her hesitate as they approached the double doors of his residence and stopped to look at her.  
"Home", Imogen whispered, staring at the facade and the doors before looking at him. "I never had a home before."  
With a smile, Lucas let go of her hand. "I dare say it is about time you had, then", he gave back. "Rightfully, I should carry you over the doorstep."  
Imogen snorted softly with a grin. "I'm not precisely a traditional bride. I mean, I don't have a dress and a veil..." She shrugged. "I don't even have flowers."  
"That can be remedied", Lucas gave back and, still smiling, indicated to her to wait there for him as he went inside. 

As he was staring at the nearest floral arrangement above the large hearth in the entrance hall, wondering if this would be appropriate, his eyes fell on a vase filled with tulips, standing on a commode beside the door. With a smile, he walked over, chose a dark red one from the bunch and walked out again. With a bow and a flourish, he handed the tulip to Imogen and, before she could protest, swept her up into his arms.  
"Lucas!", she laughed, but he ignored her struggle to get her feet onto the ground again and carried her inside. 

She gave up struggling once inside, and as he carried her up the stairs she rested her head against his shoulder, twirling the tulip between her fingers.

"Lucas", she whispered as they had reached the top of the stairs.  
"Yes?" He halted his steps and lowered his head.  
She looked up at him. "Will this not cause you some serious problems?"  
"What will? Having married you?"  
"I thought it might..."  
"Imogen." He did not set her down, however, but walked on, heading for his private rooms. "After what happened today, how can anyone say anything against it? What happened today, and I can only use the term a miracle, is all the legitimation I will ever need." He lowered his head and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Do you not agree?"  
Imogen made him smile again in that she caressed his cheek with the petals of the tulip. "I do. But don't you think people will talk?"  
"Most certainly, Imogen. People will gossip about this until they grow blisters on their tongues."  
She chuckled.  
"But thanks to Father Aloysius' little speech, the only thing that the gossips will not touch is the possibility that we have been entertaining an illegal affair during all that time. He made it quite clear that this was not the case."  
"A good thing, really."

When Lucas turned the next corner, reaching the corridor that held his private room, they encountered Herman with his little trolley, about to bring Lucas his tea. He blinked and rallied himself, completely ignoring the fact that his lordship was carrying a pirate captain on his arms. "Milord? Do you wish to take your tea in your private rooms?"  
"Indeed I do, Herman." Lucas finally set Imogen down. "Do you know what happened?"  
The servant nodded. "I have not seen it, but heard talk, milord. A total eclipse of the sun. Most people thought the world had come to an end."  
"It certainly looked like it", Lucas replied with a faint smile. "The stars were shining at noon."  
Herman tilted his head. "Milord?"  
"Herman, I gather you will hear it from the gossip soon enough, but as I want you to know how this really happened..." Lucas cleared his throat and related, in short and concise words, the events of the last hour. Imogen had to admire the servant for his ability to keep a straight face.  
"In that case", Herman said after Lucas had ended. "Let me express my heartfelt congratulations." He bowed and opened the door to Lucas' private study and followed them inside with his trolley.

"We help ourselves, Herman", Lucas said as the servant was about to set out cups. "Please bring us a meal up, something simple, and the bottle of wine that de Keuper sent me last year."  
"Milord." Herman bowed and vanished.

Lucas turned to Imogen. "Tea?"  
Imogen smiled. "I'm not really a tea drinking person... I promise betterment." She held out her hand.  
Lucas handed her a cup with a chuckle. "You will not have to change all your habits for my sake alone, Imogen."  
"For your sake?" Imogen took the cup and looked at him in earnest. "Lucas, for your sake I'd swim a sea of ice and climb a mountain of fire."  
He reached out and touched her cheek for a moment. "Would it not have to be me to say such things, being a man and all?", he gave back with a faint, lopsided smile and Imogen laughed softly.  
"Most likely." She took a sip of her tea. "Think of something yourself, by all means." Then she winked.

Lucas laughed under his breath as he poured a cup for himself. "I am afraid I lack the romantic streak in my soul that enables other men to think of such things and say them in a way that makes a woman's heart melt."  
"Which is as well. Because it gives your words more credibility if you use some romantic words, after all."  
"Does it?" He picked up his own cup and walked over to her side.  
"It does. Three words from you mean more than a thousand from any other man."  
Lucas lifted his eyebrows. "Are there any... particular words that cross your mind?"  
Imogen smiled sweetly up at him. "I gather that even you with so little romantic notions in your soul could think of some."  
He stared straight ahead with a twitch of his lips. "I could", he gave back. "Yet upon saying those words, I would have to embrace and kiss you, and presently, my hands are occupied with a teacup."  
Imogen had to laugh. "Now that was certainly the most unromantic thing I could have imagined you saying."

Lucas took a sip of his tea with a faint smile, then tilted his head as if in thought. With one decisive movement, he set his teacup down onto the table beside him and took Imogen's cup out of her hands and cleared his throat.  
"Lucas?"  
"Imogen", he said. "Do you want me to be romantic?"  
"If you feel like it." She smiled and Lucas took her hands.  
"Then I advise you to be attentive and savour it, as it is a side of me that you will not see very often." He cleared his throat again and looked at his feet for a while before he looked up at her face again, still holding on to her hands. 

Imogen watched his face closely, but there was little feeling showing, yet his voice, when he spoke, was low and soft, carrying all the emotion that was lacking in his face. His voice tugged her heartstrings as much as the words he said.

"The truest love that ever heart  
Felt at its kindled core  
Did through each vein, in quickened start  
The tide of being pour.

Her coming was my hope each day  
Her parting was my pain  
The chance that did her steps delay  
Was ice in every vein.

I dreamed it would be nameless bliss  
As I loved, loved to be  
And to this object did I press  
As blind as eagerly.

But wide as pathless was the space  
That lay our lives between,  
And dangerous as the foamy race  
Of ocean-surges green.

And haunted as a robber-path  
Through wilderness or wood  
For Might and Right, and Woe and Wrath  
Between our spirits stood.

I dangers dared, I hindrance scorned  
I omens did defy  
Whatever menaced, harassed, warned  
I passed impetuous by.

On sped my rainbow, fast as light  
I flew as in a dream  
For glorious rose upon my sight  
That child of Shower and Gleam.

Still bright on clouds of suffering dim  
Shined that soft, solemn joy  
Nor care I now how dense and grim  
Disasters gather nigh.

I care not in this moment sweet  
Though all I have rushed o'er  
Should come on pinion, strong and fleet  
Proclaiming vengeance sore.

Though haughty Hate should strike me down  
Right, bar approach to me  
And grinding Might, with furious frown  
Swear endless enmity.

My love has placed her little hand  
With noble faith in mine  
And vowed that wedlock's sacred band  
Our nature shall entwine.

My love has sworn, with sealing kiss,  
With me to live, to die  
I have at last my nameless bliss  
As I love – loved am I."

He lowered his face again after the last words and took a few breaths before looking at her again. 

Speechless, Imogen stared at his face.  
"Is that what you would think romantic?", he whispered.  
Imogen could only nod.  
"Did you like it, then?"  
She nodded again, biting her lip.  
"You seem upset." He frowned.  
"No", she whispered. "I am... I don't know how to describe it... No one has ever recited a poem for me like that..."  
A soft smile spread on his lips. "I might do it again, now and then, just to have you look at me like you looked at me just then", he said in a low voice and closed his arms around her. "Because no woman has ever looked at me like that."  
Imogen was able to smile again. "Maybe no woman has loved you so much."  
"In that case...", he whispered and leaned closer, "... I am a very lucky man." Then he kissed her, holding her tighter as Imogen, in turn, slung her arms around his body.

A knock on the door made them both jump and they parted, slightly breathless, with a smile.

Lucas looked at the door. "Yes?"  
"Your lunch, milord."  
"Ah, do come in, Herman."

The servant entered, bearing a large silver platter with some nicely arranged titbits of either cheese or cold meat on bread, a few sliced and peeled fruits, a bottle of wine and two glasses. He put this down on the low table at the divan, bowed, and left again, closing the door behind him. 

"This will give your servants a topic for gossip for months on end", Imogen said as she sat down on the divan.  
"It certainly will", Lucas replied as he took the bottle and walked over to the cabinet where he kept his drinks. "And since there is no way to stop them, I might as well make sure they also know what really happened."  
"That's why you told your servant the whole story?"  
"Exactly."  
With a smile, Imogen looked at the choice of food before her.  
"As Salomon said", Lucas remarked. "Better a dinner of herbs where love is than a roasted ox and hatred therewith."  
"Dinner of herbs?" Imogen lifted her eyebrows.  
"Well, this is certainly a very simple meal and of..."  
"Lucas."  
He looked at her.  
"Apart from the feast at the Christmas celebration in your residence two years ago this is most likely the most fancy and noble food that I've ever seen in my life."  
Lucas frowned, looked from her face at the food and back at Imogen. "I'd dare say we both will have to get used to quite a lot in times to come", he said and opened the cabinet from where he took a small, curved knife. 

Picking up a piece of apple, Imogen watched him lever the cork out of the bottle with the knife. He sniffed cautiously, then his face lightened up. He took a large, crystal carafe out of the cabinet and slowly, poured the wine from the bottle into the crystal vessel that he carried over to the table.  
"My friend de Keuper sent this to me a while ago", he said as he took the glasses. "It is a very rare grape, and from an excellent year. I kept it for a special occasion..." He handed her a glass with a smile. "But if this is not a special occasion, then I do not know what is."  
Imogen took her glass with a smile. "I must admit I do not have much knowledge about wine, either."  
Lucas returned the smile. "You might as well start now, then." 

They clinked their glasses together. 

"To us", Lucas whispered.  
"To us", Imogen replied, likewise in a whisper.

"And?" He looked at her expectantly after they had taken their first sip.  
Imogen let the wine roll over her tongue. "Will you be upset if I say it tastes... good?"  
"No." He frowned. "Why?"  
"Because... I don't know... I thought of something more sophisticated to say, only..."  
"Imogen." He reached for her other hand and brought it to his lips to kiss her fingers. "To become a connoisseur of wines and spirits it requires several years of acquaintancing your tongue and nose to the subtle differences in taste. And to like it is most certainly the first and most important step."  
With another smile, Imogen brought his hand that was holding hers to her own lips now. "I do like it a lot. What would you say about this wine?"  
Lucas took another sip, then lifted the glass and looked at the reflections of sunlight in the whirling liquid. "A heavy and full bodied Portuguese", he began with a slight frown. "Notes of ripe cherries mixing with very subtle hints of nutmeg and sandalwood..." He sniffed his glass. "Dark berries and oak. And a very pleasantly dry finish." He looked at Imogen again. "It takes a few years."  
"I shall be an eager pupil", Imogen replied with a smile and Lucas chuckled again.  
"I will not get my hands on anything like this anytime soon", he replied. "But I'd dare say my own cellars have something to offer, as well."

"Speaking of", Imogen said and leaned a little closer. "I wanted to..." Then she suddenly frowned as her eyes flicked past him.  
A little confused, Lucas watched her face grow pale and her eyes widen, and hastily turned his head to see what she was looking at. She was staring at the cello, which still was not restrung, the strings still hanging loose and torn.  
"Imogen..."  
"What happened?" Her voice was scratching. "What..." She hastily put down her glass and Lucas followed her lead and took her shoulders before she could hasten towards the mistreated instrument.  
"Imogen", he said. "Imogen..."  
She spun around, her cheeks wet with tears. "What happened?"  
"Nothing irreparable", he said gently. "Sit down and take a breath, please. I shall restring it now. I just... did not get around to doing it before."

With a mute nod, Imogen sat down again and watched him walk over to his desk where he took a small package and a tuning fork from the bottom drawer. Equipped with this, he knelt down and lowered the cello down before him.  
"This may take a while", he muttered without taking his eyes of the cello as he started to unwind the old strings. "Help yourself to something to eat, in the meantime."

Heeding his advice although her hunger had instantly disappeared at the sight of the cello, Imogen picked up a piece of bread with cold meat and watched him as he fastened the new strings and turned the pegs until they had a basic tension. Then he picked up the tuning fork, snipped it with a finger and held the bottom to the corpus of the cello. Imogen watched in fascination as he then adjusted one string towards the tone of the fork, picking the string with one cautious finger, and from there, used this string as reference to tune the rest in the same manner. 

After about fifteen minutes, the cello was restrung and tuned to Lucas' satisfaction and he sat down on the chair, adjusted the cello between his legs and picked up the bow. As he brought the bow to the strings, however, he hesitated.  
"I have not played in over a year", he said in a low voice. "I have never touched it again since..." He looked up at Imogen. "Since the day before you took the bullet that was meant for me. I have tried it once... It sounded..." He shrugged. "It sounded hollow and lifeless. As if with losing Elysande and you in one night, I had lost my music."

Imogen did not quite know what to say and watched his face. 

"I fear my fingers will have become somewhat sluggish in that time", he went on and stared at his left hand resting on the board. Yet he still did not play.  
After a few minutes had passed in silence, Imogen suddenly got up and wordlessly lowered herself down cross legged before his chair.  
Lucas looked up and smiled. "Do you think this helps me remembering?"  
"It might help your music remember you", she whispered. "You've not lost it. I can't imagine you have. Maybe the music has just hidden because it couldn't stand the sorrow."

"Nicely put", Lucas whispered in reply. "And in that case, it ought to reappear now..." With these words, he moved his right hand and drew the bow across the string it had been resting on. The sound of the cello had certainly not taken any damage from his fit of madness. Then he closed his eyes again, took a deep breath and, summoning his memory into obedience, played one of those pieces he knew by heart.

The first few notes were hesitating, they quavered a bit. But as the spring flood washes away the debris of winter and turns a barren trench into a streaming river, suddenly the feeling returned and Lucas felt his heart glow as he listened to himself and his playing. Never had his own music sounded so sweet to him. When he opened his eyes as he had ended, he saw the feeling mirrored in Imogen's eyes, flowing over with tears of joy. He put the bow down and reached for her hand, then helped her up. 

"Imogen", he whispered as he closed his arms around her. "Do not cry, please."  
"Can't help it", Imogen whispered into his shoulder. "I thought I'd never hear you play again."  
Lucas held her tighter. "I shall play for you every day from now on." Then he slowly let go of her again.  
Imogen looked up and smiled, wiping away her tears. "I hadn't even realised how much I've missed your music."

With a soft smile, Lucas led her back to the divan where they sat down again. They picked up their glassed, clinked them together with another smile and spent some time in silence, eating a little and drinking some wine, enjoying each other's presence without the need for any words.


	71. Chapter 69

**Chapter 69**

A while after they had emptied the bottle, Imogen picked up a bunch of grapes from the platter. Smiling, she offered Lucas one who took it with a smile in return. She offered him another one, but pulled her hand back as he meant to take it. With her smile widening, she held the grape a little closer to his face and with understanding dawning in his eyes, and a smile spreading on his lips, he ate the grape from her fingers.

With a soft giggle, a little lightheaded by half a bottle of wine and all the excitement of the bygone hours, she offered him another on which he took but then he took the grapes from her and in turn, offered her a grape which she ate from his fingers. 

"Imogen", Lucas said after a while. "Would you like to see the house?"  
"I would", she gave back and he got up and helped her up in turn. 

With a gesture that was as natural to him as it was unfamiliar to Imogen, he then offered her his arm and Imogen slipper her arm through his and followed him through the house, listening to his explanations what the rooms were and what use they were in.

"This is the small salon", he said. "It was in use as music study for a while; there is a harpsichord over there, in the corner."  
Imogen craned her neck. "Where?"  
"Under the dustsheet. There is no one here to play it anymore."  
"I see." Imogen looked up at his face. "It's a shame..."  
"It is."

Lucas closed the door and they continued walking down the corridor, hesitating when he reached the door at the end. He shot Imogen a hesitating glance, but then, with a shrug, he opened the door and led her inside.  
Imogen looked around but spotted the large painting at once, as well as the urn below it on the mantelpiece. She slowly let go of Lucas' arm and walked a few steps toward it.  
"I never had the chance to thank you", she whispered after staring at the urn for several silent minutes. "You saved my life. But not only that, you gave your life to save mine. I will never fathom why you did it, but I shall be forever grateful, because I will never forget that my gain was your loss, first." Then she stepped back and turned around. 

Lucas looked at her with an expression she could not identify, but he wordlessly offered her his arm again and they left, heading back for Lucas' study where they settled down on the divan again. Not before long, however, a serving maid bade entrance and lighted the candles as the sun was already sinking low.

They spent some more time feeding each other grapes, both seemingly holding to the silent agreement that sad issues of the past would be delayed and not discussed today.

Imogen plucked the last grape from the now bare stem and held it out between thumb and forefinger, but as Lucas leaned forward, she drew it back. He looked up with a puzzled frown. She held it out. He leaned forward again. She drew it back again, this time, with a grin.  
Lucas tilted his head, a smile spreading on his lips as Imogen brought the grape to her own mouth. She didn't eat it, however, but held the grape between her lips and Lucas leaned forward to try and conquer that last grape.  
It was relinquished willingly, and as he leaned back chewing, Imogen a little forward and, slowly and carefully, untied the bunch of lace at his throat and lowered it tidily onto the table.

"Imogen", Lucas whispered, leaning forward. "Can I undo your hair?"  
Smiling, Imogen nodded and turned her back to him and Lucas untied the leather thong and undid the braid slowly and carefully as not to pull any hairs and hurt her. He then ran his hands through her hair, sifting the curls through his fingers and Imogen turned around again, slung her arms around his neck and kissed him. Pulling her close to him, Lucas leaned back into the divan, his back half against the armrest so he sat more or less sideways, and buried his fingers into her hair. Imogen leaned back after a while, kicked off her boots and scrambled fully onto the divan to lean against his body while resting her head against his shoulder with a sigh. Lucas closed his arms around her and Imogen closed her eyes as he lowered his cheek into her hair.

For another long while, they just remained like this, before Imogen leaned back again and unbuttoned his vest.  
"Imogen?"  
She ignored him and reached for the top button of his shirt.  
"Imogen... what are you doing?"  
"Nothing." She opened the first four buttons of his shirt and opened it with slow, deliberate movements, baring only his left shoulder and a bit of his chest. Then she lowered her head against his left shoulder again, but this time, her cheek was resting against his bare skin.  
"Imogen...?"  
She sighed deeply, her eyes closed. "You have no idea how good this feels."  
Chuckling softly under his breath, Lucas closed his arms around her again and buried one hand in her hair, toying with one particularly curly strand.

"Lucas", Imogen whispered after a while.  
"Yes?"  
"Your heart beats so fast..."  
"It beats only for you, Imogen."  
As she placed a soft kiss onto his skin without moving her head, she could feel his heart beat even faster. With a smile, she snuggled closer to him.  
  
"Imogen", Lucas said some moments later, in a whisper, as well.  
"Yes?"  
He swallowed and Imogen, feeling his heart beat against her cheek as if it meant to burst the ribcage it was secured in, lifted her head to look at him. His eyes had a strange, dark glow to them.  
"Imogen", he whispered. "Will you come to bed with me? Because if I cannot make love to you now, finally, this very minute, I shall no longer answer for the consequences."  
Feeling her own heart plunge into a racing pace, Imogen took a deep breath and leaned forward, bringing her lips close to his ear. Her curls brushed his cheek as she placed a kiss onto the edge of his jaw. "Lucas", she said in a low and husky whisper and felt him shudder. "Lucas... yes, I want you."

He pushed her gently back and got up, offering her his hands to help her up in turn. Holding on to one of her hands, he then led her into his adjacent bedroom. The sun was already touching the horizon and the room was filled with a dark, amber light.

That moment, as they stood by the window, looking at each other with eyes full of tender longing and desire, Imogen felt suddenly shy and looked at her feet. Lucas took her hands and she hesitatingly looked up again.

"I can't really say why...", she said. "But I feel as if..." She shrugged. "I mean... I don't really know why I'm making such a fuss, but I've got so many scars... I feel so flawed..."  
"Imogen." With a sigh, Lucas let go of her hands and pulled her close. "You are perfect. Never doubt that you are perfect. You are precisely the woman you have to be. With all the scars, that show what you have gone through."  
Imogen had to smile and chewed her lower lip for a second. "It still looks pretty hideous. I'd like to... I'd like to have it over with." Then she turned around and hesitatingly, pulled the shirt over her head to expose her back to him.  
He neither moved nor said a word at first, but then she felt his fingers tracing the lines on her back in a soft, gentle touch that made her shiver.

"You are perfect", he whispered. "These lines are merely letters of a different language than ours, spelling out your strength of body and mind and spirit."  
Imogen had to smile, but felt strangely reluctant to turn around. His hands gone, she heard some rustling of cloth and only when she felt both his hands resting on her shoulders she dared to turn around again. He had shed his own shirt and vest and Imogen lowered her eyes again to look at the two snakes encircling his navel.  
"Someday, I have to know how a man as you came to bear such an interesting feature", she said and looked into his face again.  
He smiled and closed his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "Someday", he said. "Someday soon. I shall tell you everything, and you shall tell me everything. I want to know the story of every scar you bear; I want to know you, Imogen."  
"You shall know me, Lucas. Body and soul."

Imogen leaned back again and closed her eyes as Lucas lowered his face and kissed her. She buried her hands in his hair and pressed her body closer to his, to feel his skin touching hers. She felt herself tremble all over.

"Lucas", she said as he broke the kiss and leaned back. "I know it sounds strange, but..." She smiled shyly. "I feel, somehow, as if I had never been touched by a man before."  
"Do you?", he replied with a gentle smile. "Maybe you have not, then."  
"Lucas. I am a mother."  
"I know." He cupped her face in his hands and sought her eyes. "But have you not been through purgatory and have been cleansed? You have been fully renewed, and even if your body has been touched by man before, your soul has not." He placed a soft and tender kiss on her lips. "And thus I shall treat you as a virgin, as if you have never been touched, but with the blessing knowledge that I shall not hurt you." He kissed her again. "Imogen..."  
"Lucas..."  
"Do you trust me?"  
He again sought her gaze and held it as Imogen looked at him. "Yes."  
"You do?"  
"Yes."  
He smiled. "Thank you." He kissed her again and then slowly let go of her face and stood back a little.

In silence, they shed the rest of their clothing until they both stood naked, facing each other. Not taking her eyes of his face, Imogen then noticed that he was covering himself with one hand while looking at her face, alone.  
"Are you ashamed?"  
"I would call it decent and modest..."  
She smiled softly. "Do you think that decency and modesty is called for between lovers?"  
He blinked. "Probably... not."  
"Lucas", she whispered. "I want to know you."  
He took a deep breath and straightened up, but then, slowly let his hand sink. Imogen did not take her eyes of his.  
"All right?", she asked after a while.  
Lucas nodded and Imogen took a small step back and looked at him while he looked at her.

After some moments, they both simultaneously stepped forward into each other's embrace, and their lips met in a kiss that was, by now, less tender and more passionate, both breathing heavily as they ran their hands across each other's skin.  
"I want you", Imogen whispered after a few moments. "Lucas, I want you..."  
With one swift move, Lucas swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed where he laid her down. "You shall have me", he whispered as he lay down beside her and took her into his arms. "Body and soul."

And the world ceased around them as they kissed again, because in this moment, there was nothing else but them. Nothing else was important, nothing else mattered. Nothing else was.

Nothing but the two of them.

A man. And a woman.

**x x x x x x x x**

Resting her head against his shoulder, feeling his skin under her cheek and listening to his strong and steady heartbeat, Imogen realised that finally, she had found again what she so long had longed for... that tranquil feeling of peace with his arms being around her. How she had pined for another touch of him for so long! And now... now she would never be without it again. Never be without him again.

Although, she had to admit with a smile, the warm and heavy glow inside her body originated in something entirely different than safety or peace. She opened her eyes with a sigh and looked up at Lucas' face again, watching his profile outlined in the moonlight that made his face look as if it was cast from silver.

"Lucas", she whispered and he opened his eyes and slowly turned his head with a soft smile to look at her.  
"Yes?"  
"I have always wondered...", she began, smiling at him as she traced his cheek with her finger.  
"About what?"  
She swallowed but still smiled. "If your face would look the same when you make love to a woman... as it does when you make love to your instrument."  
He shifted and turned around to better look at her, a strange and tender smile on his lips. "And?"  
Imogen ran a hand through his hair. "It does."  
He chuckled softly and leaned over her to meet her lips in a gentle kiss. "It is probably an issue of passion", he whispered with a smile. "And love", he added and kissed her again.

Caressing his cheek with her fingers, she looked at him and sighed again. "I do so wish I could make such music, as well."  
He slowly raised his eyebrows. "Do you?"  
Feeling embarrassed and a little sheepish, Imogen could only nod.  
Lucas took her right hand in his and kissed her fingers. "Would you like to try it out?"  
She leaned back with widening eyes and shook her head. "I... I can't..."  
"I am sure you can", he said and sat up, pulling her up with him, and ran a hand through her hair. Imogen shook her head but he flicked his with a smile. "Come."  
"No..." She tried to resist, but he was already half up and did not let go of her hand. "Lucas", she tried again. "You're stark naked!"  
He turned around with an amused smile. "So are you. Come."

Seemingly having no other choice than to follow him, Imogen got up and let herself be led through the door into his study where he had her sit down on the chair and positioned the cello between her knees. She still tried to protest when he put the bow into her right hand.  
"Lucas..." She looked up at his face, he was standing behind her but leaning around her so his face was level with hers. "No... For heaven's sake, this is madness!"  
He slowly raised his eyebrows. "Now this is something in which we seem to have achieved quite a level of proficiency so far, if I remember correctly", he said drily with a lopsided smile.

Imogen shook her head but he just ignored this and brought her left hand up and closed her fingers around the board. "Bend your fingers", he said, his voice still almost a whisper. "You mute the other strings like this... yes, exactly." Her fingers arranged to his satisfaction, he placed his on top hers and with his other hand, touched her right hand holding the bow.  
"Now", he said, his face so close to her that their cheeks touched. "Remember that this is neither a sabre nor a cutlass. Relax your fingers... that is better."  
"Lucas, this is...", Imogen began again, but for some reason, he just ignored her protest. And for some reason, she didn't really resist.  
"Gently", he said. "Draw the bow back, but do not put too much pressure on it. Just like this." With these words, Lucas drew his fingers along her forearm, from wrist to elbow, indicating the amount of pressure she would have to use, but the way he touched her sent shivers down her spine and made the hairs on her arms rise.

She took a deep breath and swallowed. "This is going to sound awful..."  
"No, it won't." He did it again, running his fingers down her arm. "Just like this"  
Imogen shuddered again and he closed his hand around hers.  
"I can't..."  
"You can. Do not expect yourself to play a bourette in the first attempt. Just a note."

Taking another deep breath, Imogen closed her eyes and prepared herself for the worst as she moved her arm. Yet her eyes flew wide open in surprise as the tone that she produced was nothing other than a sweet, clear note. She almost gasped for air and he chuckled.  
"I knew you could."  
"I..."  
"Try it again."  
She closed her eyes and tried it again, with his hand guiding the bow to the next string so the sound was another tone than the first.  
"Move it back." His fingers trailed a line along her forearm again, this time from elbow to wrist. "Like this..."  
Taking a deep breath, Imogen followed his instructions and even the third tone was as perfect as the two others had been. She shook her head, feeling close to tears.

She felt her reluctance slowly vanish and felt her back relax as she gave in to his guiding hands and just followed wherever he led her. Then his fingers slowly left hers to rest on the strings alone and shortly after that, his right hand guiding the bow slowly moved back, as well. A sudden stab of panic ran through her as she realised this but forcing herself under control, she just went on, pretending that there was no difference if his hands were guiding her or not. Strangely enough, with only the four notes, cautiously moving the bow back and forth, there wasn't.

Imogen had no words for this. "This is..."  
"Beautiful", he whispered. And when she heard his voice coming from before her, she opened her eyes to see him sit on the ground before her, a tender look and a soft smile on his face.  
She stopped, swallowing heavily. He had left her completely alone and she hadn't even realised, and she had indeed... she could...  
"You have no idea how beautiful you look when you sit there, your face lost as if in a dream, clad only with..." He swallowed. "Clad only with my cello"  
Imogen let the bow sink and smiled, still slightly out of breath and more than slightly nervous by the way he looked at her.  
He slowly got up and walked up to her, resting one hand on her cheek as he looked down on her. "To fall in love with someone", he whispered, his voice holding a trace of amazement, overlaid by tenderness. "For the love of music..." He leaned forward to kiss her and smiled as he leaned back. "I gather I have to admit that Doctor de Beer was right, after all. Music does have magical properties."

They exchanged a silent smile.

"Lucas?"  
"Yes?"  
"Play something for me." Imogen rose from the chair and held out the bow to him, her left hand still closed around the neck of the cello.  
He raised his eyebrows. "Am I allowed to dress beforehand?"  
With a smile, Imogen shook her head.  
"I thought as much."  
Smiling himself, he took the bow from her, sat down and adjusted the cello between his legs, watching her lower herself down before him.  
"This feels rather unsettling", he said. "And in a very disturbing way... rather arousing." He shifted the cello with a wry smile and Imogen chuckled softly. They exchanged a long glance, smiling at each other, before Lucas closed his eyes and lowered his head, leaning over his cello.  
"For you", he whispered. "And only for you." He looked up again. "Fly home with the seagulls."

Before Imogen could say something or even move, he lowered his head again and began to play, capturing her soul again, yet this time, she just closed her eyes and let her soul float on the music, carried by the soft notes like a seagull is carried by the winds. And she followed the music home... flying home to safety, home to... him.

She hadn't even realised that he had ended and opened her eyes only as she felt his hands cup her face. Wordlessly, she slung her arms around his neck as he kissed her again and let herself be lowered onto her back by him.

He made love to her again, on the carpet in his study, the very same spot where he had watched her listen to him for the first time, had seen her tears for the first time, where he had fallen in love with her even if he had not realised it at that point.

And the only ones to witness were the moon, shining through the window, casting their tangled limbs in silver light... 

...and the cello.


	72. Chapter 70

**Chapter 70**

Imogen awoke with a slight feeling of disorientation, but it took her no longer than she needed to realise there was someone else lying close to her under the blanket that she remembered where she was and what had happened the day before. She could have stayed there forever, cuddled in his arms, but the need to relieve herself forced her out of the cosy nest and she ventured for the night chair, modestly hidden in a curtained-off corner of the room.

She did not slip directly back into the bed when she came back, however, but had a look at the face of the man still asleep in it.

His features were still soft and relaxed in deep sleep, he hadn't even stirred when she had left the bed. Shivering a little in the cool morning air, Imogen stooped to pick up her shirt when her eyes fell on a dressing gown hanging from one of the bedposts. Smiling to herself, she slipped this on, it was Lucas', of course, and thus easily reached her ankles.

The sun was just rising and Imogen looked out into the rosy-orange dawn around the golden speck that appeared just at the horizon. A fresh morning breeze stirred the palm leafs in front of the window. After taking a few deep breaths of the crisp, clean morning air, Imogen turned around again to look back at the bed. Lucas had just moved for the first time and turned his head, but was still asleep.

With a smile, Imogen watched him, realising that it was one thing to fall asleep with someone, but quite another to wake up with them. While falling asleep together was cosy and romantic, waking up, or even watching someone wake up, was something ultimately private and intimate.

Lucas turned around onto his side and yawned and Imogen couldn't even say what made her heart glow so much at seeing him do something so mundane, but guessed it was the feeling of intimacy; that she had never been able to imagine herself seeing him wake up.

A slow smile spreading on his lips, Lucas then opened his eyes, but his smile died when he spotted the empty pillow beside him. Imogen frowned to the same degree as he did, and held her breath as he placed his hand on the pillow, dug his fingers into it and closed his eyes with a deep sigh. Was he...?

"Lucas."

His eyes flew open and he jerked half upright, blinking several times as he stared at her.

Smiling, Imogen slipped the dressing gown off her shoulders and walked back to the bed, watching the smile return to his face. "It wasn't a dream", she whispered and crept under the blanket again to snuggle into his embrace.  
"Thank god for that", he murmured into her hair as he held her close to him.  
Imogen turned in his arms and looked at him.  
Lucas smiled at her under half closed lids. "I better make sure that I am not mistaken and you are really here", he whispered and kissed her, closing his arms tighter around her. Imogen had to chuckle, as his face was unfamiliarly scratchy, but he ignored it as he went on kissing her.

Imogen stopped chuckling, however, as he rolled on top of her, and both made really, really sure that the other one was real and no dream.

**x x x x x x x x**

Somewhat later, as they lay both curled up around each other with her back nestled against his chest, a knock on the door made them both flinch as they had both been adrift in that dozy state between wakefulness and sleep that overcomes you when you remain in bed although you are, or have been, fully awake. Lucas sighed and lifted his head to look at the door. "Yes?"  
The door opened a crack. "Good morning, milord. Would you like to have your tea now?"  
"Tea?" Lucas ran a hand down his face. "Why, it is not Sunday, is it?"  
"Indeed it is not, milord." Herman's voice held a smile. "But I thought you would like to make it one."  
Lucas had to smile in return. "I might as well do, Herman. Thank you for being so considerate."  
"With pleasure, milord. Are you decent?"  
Imogen giggled and dived a little deeper under the blanket and Lucas cleared his throat. "For a given value of decent, Herman. Do come in."

The door opened fully and Herman wheeled his little trolley in, upon which the usual teapot, cups, plates, saucers and teacakes were arranged.

"Good morning, milord", Herman said, his face unmoving as he poured a cup of tea. Then he poured another one, and with a slightly unhappy frown, looked at Lucas again. "Is it milady or would it be Captain?"  
Lucas blinked and looked at Imogen who shrugged. "What would you prefer?"  
"I'm more used to the Captain", Imogen replied and sat up a little straighter, conscious of keeping the blanket tucked under her arms to cover herself. "But I might as well get used to something new." She flashed Lucas a sweet smile who nodded with a smile in return.

Herman nodded and looked at Imogen, straight into her eyes and nowhere else. "Good morning milady. How do you take your tea?"  
Imogen blinked.  
"With milk or cream, sugar, or both?"  
"Tea with cream and sugar?" Sinful indulgence beckoned. "Oh, please."  
Herman nodded and handed her a cup. "Milady."  
"Thank you."

Herman bowed and vanished, closing the door softly behind him.

Imogen leaned her head back with a blissful sigh. "Tea in bed..."  
"I do not normally do this", Lucas gave back and took a sip of his. "On Sundays, however, I allow myself the luxury of having a cup of tea in bed before I get up and go to mass."  
"So you decided to make today a Sunday." Imogen smiled at him.  
"I certainly won't be found in my office today", he gave back and smiled in return.

After they had their tea and a small white bun stuffed with dried fruit, Lucas decided that by now, it was about time to start their day.

"But we have started the day already", Imogen said with a smile as she watched him get up.  
"Have we?"  
"Oh, we have. We just have not left the bed yet."  
Lucas chuckled and retrieved his clothes. "I feel unable to contradict."

Imogen watched him as he dressed and still did so as he sat, shirtless yet, down at the washing table and adjusted the mirror. While she pulled her shirt over her head and sat down on the bed again he had washed his face and was now lathering soap onto his jaw and cheeks.

"Is there any particular reason for the fascination with which you watch me going through my morning routine?" He lifted his eyebrows in curious amusement and Imogen had to grin as she watched his face in the mirror, distorted into those horrific grimaces only men can do, and only when shaving.  
"I can't really say", she gave back. "It's just... I never could imagine seeing you do this at all."  
"Well, I'd dare say it loses its fascination", Lucas replied while frowning in concentration as he brought the blade up his neck and past his Adam's apple. "Sooner or later." Then he gave her a little smile before shifting his attention back to his image in the mirror.

For some reason, Imogen felt compelled to watch and, as he had finished and dried his face, she still sat on the bed, dressed only in her shirt. He left the table and walked up to her and she rose up to her knees, resting her hands on his shoulders. Smiling, he sat down onto the bed beside her.

"Have you ever thought about growing a beard?", she asked as she ran her fingers across his cheeks, now smooth and soft again.  
"No. Do you think it would suit me?"  
Imogen leaned back a little to give him a long, scrutinizing look. "No", she said then and chuckled as she slung her arms around him to kiss him.  
"Should we not venture to start the day, after all?", Lucas asked her when she leaned back.  
"I thought we had already."  
"We are taking a step back here if we..."  
Imogen interrupted him in simply kissing him again, increasing the pressure on his shoulders until she managed to push him down.  
"Imogen", he said with a chuckle as she pulled her shirt over her head again and dropped it. "I must admit it is flattering what you think my virility capable of, but..."  
Ignoring his protests, Imogen kissed him again.

They did, in the end, start their day, but it was almost midday when they finally left the bedroom.

**x x x x x x x x**

A servant found them a little later in the garden where Lucas had showed Imogen around and informed them that lunch was ready and waiting for them. She took his offered arm and followed him inside and upstairs into the dining room where the table was laid for two. A bit over conscious of herself she let Lucas arrange her chair and help her sit down, and as he sat, he noticed her tension.

"Imogen, is something wrong?"  
She smiled a little sheepishly. "No...I'm just... not used to being treated like a lady."  
"In that case it is about time someone does", Lucas replied with a smile.  
"As you said yesterday, we will both have to get used to quite a lot. I just have so little an idea how to behave sometimes."  
"It will come to you", he gave back.  
"Will you help me?"  
Lucas reached out and closed his hand around hers for a second. "If you wish it so, then I most certainly will."

Somewhat comforted, Imogen braced herself and leaned back as the servants brought the food.

She felt a little reluctant to part from the soup, deliciously white and creamy, as she had enjoyed that a lot, but the main course following this proved to be no disappointment, either. She gave up on the peas, however, after fruitlessly chasing them around on the plate for a while.

"Imogen? You do not have to eat the peas if you do not like them."  
"I do like peas", Imogen gave back and shrugged, feeling terribly embarrassed. "I'm just... not used to vegetables that aren't boiled into a pulp you can either eat with a spoon or spoon up with a piece of bread."  
Lucas did not quite know what to reply to this, but had the feeling he needed to reassure her as he could well see that she was ashamed of herself. "Do not put any blame where none is due", he said gently.  
Imogen shrugged and put down her cutlery. "I guess I've still got a long way to go."  
"You have come quite a long way already. Never forget that."  
At that, she could smile again and he returned the smile.

The table was cleared and a servant brought in a flat, pie like cake.

Imogen shot Lucas a glance. "And what is this?"  
"This, Imogen...", Lucas replied as he cut a piece, "... is a Dutch apple tart. I highly recommend you try it."

He handed her the plate with a smile and Imogen took it eagerly. She loved apples. She had always loved apples, in fact. She didn't know why, and sometimes she assumed it had to do with the fact that her father loathed apples to the level of hate. She had never found out why this was the case, and had she known, she would probably, after all that had happened, have joined him. But as it was, she had no idea why her father didn't like apples and loved them herself all the more, and thus, she was in for one of the most pleasant surprises that her new life had on offer for her. Her eyes widened in delight as she tried a forkful. In no time, she had equipped herself with a second slice.

Not before she put down her fork after that did she realise that Lucas was watching her progress through the cake with unmasked amusement. She felt her cheeks glow and bit her lower lip as she realised he had not even eaten half of his first piece.

"You seemed to have enjoyed that."  
"Uhm..." She buried her hands in her lap. "I gather I got a bit carried away there."  
"What makes you think so?"  
"You're laughing at me..." She did not dare meet his eye.

"Imogen." He put down his fork and leaned forward. "I was laughing, yes. But I was not laughing about you, but from sheer delight in seeing you so delighted. In fact, it makes me even more proud to hail from the country that devised something that brings you so much pleasure."  
At that, she looked up again. "Are you taking me in?"  
"Am I what?"  
"Are you being serious?"  
"Of course I am being serious. Please, have another one."  
Imogen pressed her lips together. "I already had another one."  
"Then by all means, have another one", Lucas replied resolutely and cut off another, rather generous piece and placed it onto her plate. "Try some cream with it", he added and handed her a small crock.

Imogen pursed her lips at first, then looked up at Lucas again who, in turn, just smiled fondly down at her. With a sigh and a faint, still somewhat embarrassed smile, Imogen then picked up the crock and lathered the piece of cake in cream before picking up the fork again.

**x x x x x x x x**

After lunch (and half an apple tart), Imogen informed Lucas that she would have to go to her ship, after all.

He cast her a worried look. "But you will come back?"  
Imogen stared at him for a second before the meaning of his words dawned on her. "Of course I will. I'd dare say I have something better to do right now than going straight back to sea."

With a smile, Lucas put an arm around her. They were sitting on the divan in his study again.

"But I will have to see my first mate. You know, I remember what you told me, a while ago, about retirement." She looked up into his face and saw him smile. "I still don't know what I should do with myself, but I do know that I won't go back to sea in a hurry."

Lucas stopped smiling and looked earnestly down at her face. "Will you not miss the freedom?"  
"Freedom?" Imogen smiled sadly. "There's different kinds of freedom, Lucas. There's freedom because you can make a choice. And there's freedom because there is no choice and thus, there is nothing to either lose or to gain. I've never been given a choice in my life, Lucas. No one has ever asked me did I want to become a pirate. And all my life I thought it's what I want. Being in control, being free, having no restrictions. But that life leads you nowhere. There's freedom because you can do what you want. Having nothing else to lose is easily confused with freedom. But it is not freedom."

Lucas did not reply, but gently placed a hand on her cheek.

"What shall I miss about my time at sea? The wind in my face, the creaking of the rigging, the billowing of sails, no doubt. But I shan't miss the cannonballs, the fights, the smell of powder, death and burning, and I shan't miss the feeling of never knowing if I will see the shore again when I set out." She buried her face into his shoulder ad Lucas closed both his arms around her.

"Would you rather I remain a pirate captain?", she whispered after a while.  
He leaned back and looked at her with dismay in his eyes. "What makes you think so?"  
"I shall change a lot if I try to become a lady. Will I still be the woman you fell in love with?"

"Imogen." Lucas shook his head. "I doubt you can change much more than you already have. Changing a few of your manners won't change the core of your soul. I saw this in you, and I always believed there was more in you than a simple pirate. You may not be of proud and noble birth, Imogen, but you are a proud and noble soul. Being your truest self cannot change what you are, my love. And it certainly won't make me love you any less." He then pulled her closer and kissed her. "And I certainly will not grieve if I have you near me all the time", he went on after that. "And I can very well live without having to say goodbye to you for weeks on end, always wondering if I will ever see you again and if so, what new scars you might bear. No, Imogen. Stay with me, and I will be the happiest man on earth."

"Lucas", Imogen whispered and held on to him in what was almost desperation. "I love you."  
"I love you, Imogen. Never doubt it. Never doubt me. No matter what comes still, I love you."  
"I don't doubt you", she whispered with a sigh. "Never."

For a while she remained there, in his arms, but eventually, she tore herself away from him.

"I shall be back tonight", she said. "I promise, although it might be a tad bit late. I intend on having a drink with my men to celebrate my wedding and make my farewells."  
"By all means. You will find me here waiting for you."  
"I might be a tad bit drunk", Imogen added with a faint smile.  
"I shall not turn you away, no matter the state you are in."  
Imogen chuckled. "I shall see you tonight.

Lucas let her go with a smile.


	73. Chapter 71

The song is called "Don't forget yer old shipmate", according to the website about shanties and seasongs I have it from a traditional and made famous by the film Master and Commander, a film I have not YET seen.

**--  
**

**Chapter 71**

The men spotted Imogen as she approached the Windhunter, and by the time she walked up the gangplank they were all assembled on deck, standing in a large half-circle facing her.

It seemed to Imogen, as she stopped to look them over, that she had stepped into some ancient, heathen ritual, due to the fact she had not come here directly but had made a detour via the main marketplace to arrange a few things it was almost dark, and quite a few of the men were bearing lit torches while looking at her with serene expressions.

Imogen slowly crossed her arms. "Aye?"  
Niels took a step forward. "Is it true, zen?"  
Tilting her head and narrowing her eyes, Imogen looked him over. "What is?"  
"Zat ye married someone because ze stars were shining at noontime."  
A faint twitch lifted the corners of her mouth. "Aye."  
Niels raised his eyebrows, but his lips twitched, as well. "Did ye have to carry him zere?"  
Imogen grinned. "No. In fact, Niels, he carried me. Over the doorstep that is."  
Returning the grin, Niels then turned his head to face the crew."Did ye hear zat? Our captain's married, true and good!"

And at that, the whole crew broke out in hoorays and yays, hollering and yelling like madmen and throwing hats, disregarding the burning torches. And surely, someone's hat hit a torch and caught fire, and it all ended in screams and howls of laughter.

Chuckling herself, Imogen walked below to fill her pockets with gulden. For she wanted to celebrate, and she did not want any of her men spend any of his hard earned wages.

"Right", she said when she emerged again. "I want you to remember that night as the best night in town ye lot ever had."  
Howls and yells of delight answered her.  
"And I want you to drink to your Captain's health until ye burst!"  
The howls grew louder. Imogen grinned.  
"And I do not want you to spend a single penny!"  
The answer to that was, understandably, rather ear battering.

And so, with her men in tow, Imogen left the Windhunter again to have the crew empty a few drinks on her.

**x x x x x x x x**

Quite a few taverns and inns along the quay made the profit of the year that night, yet Imogen, once she had watched her men get going, felt strangely reluctant to drink herself senseless. And Niels, always beside her, seemed to have made up his mind to, again, stay with her on that. He held himself back to the same degree as Imogen did while keeping her silent company.

It was close to midnight when what was left of the crew still able to somehow walk or stagger followed Imogen back to the ship where she meant to pack up her few belongings and go back home. The word still held a tingling feeling of excitement for her, as well as causing a strange, unfamiliar tug in her belly region.

Niels came with her to give her a hand if needed, but all the things that Imogen meant to take fitted in a small bag. She did not have any more clothing apart from a spare shirt and apart from the heavy, locked chest, nothing of value. Nothing of monetary value, that was. For what she did take were three books, two of them bibles, one intact and one with a bullet hole, a small, oval wrapped parcel, a handful of seashells, Jack's necklace and a small wooden box containing, and only Imogen knew this, the dried and brittle remains of a few tulips. With her bag under her arm and the chest on her shoulder, she then stood silently and still as she looked around in the cabin for a while.

Finally, Niels stepped to her side. "Ye're not coming back." It wasn't a question.  
Imogen did not answer.  
"Ye weren't very happy here, lately."  
She still didn't reply.  
"Are ye sure zat's what ye want?"  
Finally, Imogen did look up. "I will have to find it out, Niels. All I'm sure of that this is not what I want. It was, once. But not anymore."  
Niels nodded silently.

"A lot of strength and luck."  
Niels blinked. "Eh?"  
"A lot of strength is what I had to have, and a lot of luck is what I had, in surviving and getting through those last few years, Niels. I get the feeling I've used it up." Imogen shrugged. "I'm tired, Niels. It's as if I've been at sea for a decade, and then suddenly, there is land again, a place to lay your head, sweet water, fresh fruit, and someone to watch your sleep." She looked up again and for the first time, Niels saw the true tiredness in her eyes that before, she had even hidden from him. "I need a rest, Niels. Maybe I'll be back, someday. I don't know."  
"Maybe", Niels replied, but he somehow had the feeling she was just saying it to comfort him.

"In the meantime, I'll have a safe place", she said then, and a faint, but true smile flitted across her face. "I'll be fine."  
"Ye'll have to get used to depend on someone for a living, I guess", Niels said rather cautiously.  
"I'll have means of my own, Niels."  
"Yes, but how long are zey going to last?"

Imogen blinked and slowly put down the chest again. Then she looked up, and gave Nils a small, calculating smile. "I have an idea", she said.

**x x x x x x x x**

Midnight had passed and the hands of the clock were nearing one when Lucas heard the sound from outside that seemed to be a large group of men walking up to the manor. With a small smile he shut the book he was reading and walked over to the window, looking down onto the street. He saw no one, as from here, he could not see the entrance, but he could hear someone laugh and someone else cough. When this was followed by an almost expectant, forced silence, he gave in to his curiosity and opened the window to lean out. He still could not see anything that was happening in front of the house, if indeed it was happening there, but he could clearly hear someone, a man, talk to someone else.

"So, farewell then, for now. We, that is, me and the lads, we have something for ye, like... as a farewell present to remember us by."  
"As if I needed anything to remember you foul lot by." That was Imogen's voice. "As if I could forget a single one of yer ugly mugs in a hurry!"  
Coarse laughter followed these words.  
"Now, what is it, then?"  
The man cleared his throat. "Ready lads?"

Some coughs and clearings of throats were heard, followed by a pregnant silence. And then, they sang. It was a sailor's song, a seaman's song, with a rhythm like rocking waves, or of hauling seamen. Lucas listened, and had to admit it was well chosen.

"_Safe and sound at home again  
Let the waters roar, Jack  
Safe and sound at home again  
Let the waters roar, Jack _

_Long we've tossed on the rolling main  
Now we're safe ashore, Jack  
Don't forget your old shipmate  
Fal dee ral dee ral dee rye eye doe _

_Since we sailed from Plymouth Sound  
Four years gone, or nigh, Jack  
Was there ever chummies, now  
Such as you and I, Jack? _

_We have worked the self-same gun:  
Quarterdeck division  
Sponger I and loader you  
Through the whole commission _

_Oftentimes have we laid out  
Toil nor danger fearing,  
Tugging out the flapping sail  
To the weather bearing_

_When the middle watch was on  
And the time went slow, boy  
Who could choose a rousing stave  
Who like Jack or Joe, boy? _

_There she swings, an empty hulk  
Not a soul below now  
Number seven starboard mess  
Misses Jack and Joe now _

_But the best of friends must part  
Fair or foul the weather  
Hand yer flipper for a shake  
Now a drink together!"_

It was not before this very moment, after the song had ended, that Lucas realised for the first time that Imogen would be leaving not just her crew, but her friends behind, and he began to worry that she could never be truly happy here, in this house, because she would most likely feel lonely at one point. And he also faced the grim thought that at one point, she might leave him again, even if it would be only for a while. But blame her, he could not. He sincerely hoped that this day would be far into the future, and as he stared at the door to his study when he heard steps in the hallway outside, he wondered what it would feel like to watch her go again as he had done so often before.

But all these dark thoughts vanished instantly the moment she stepped through the door and smiled at him. He also realised, not without a tiny bit of relief, that she was not as drunk as he had feared she might. She was far from sober, however.

"Welcome back", Lucas said and Imogen dropped the small bag she had been carrying and put down the chest she had been dragging after her.  
"I'm not that drunk", Imogen replied with a strangely shy smile.  
"I see that", he replied and took a few steps towards her to touch her shoulder. "Are you all right? You look..."  
"Sad", she finished for him. "Just a little sad. It will be a while, and I don't know how long, until I see any of them again. Apart from Niels."  
"Niels?"

"Niels Peer Henningsen. He's... the Captain of the Windhunter."  
Lucas frowned. "But I thought you were..."  
With a shrug, Imogen looked past him and after a few seconds, back at his face again. "The Windhunter was my ship, but she was never truly mine. She was Niels' ship. I never had a ship again ever since the day I lost my Albatross. She was my first ship, and I think, the only one that felt truly mine."  
"So the Windhunter..."  
"Is Niels' ship now. I sold her." But there was a faint smile on her face and Lucas tilted his head, giving her a questioning look.

"I made an arrangement", Imogen went on. "A contract, to be precise. A contract that enables me to retain my own source of income without being actually involved in piracy any more. Not... as such."  
Lucas raised his eyebrows. "So what precisely is the nature... of this contract?"

With a satisfied little smile, Imogen produced a folded document from the pocket of her vest and handed it to Lucas. He read it and slowly lowered the paper with a disbelieving and admiring smile.

"Will you ever cease to amaze me, Imogen?"  
"I hope not", she replied and took a step forward, plucked the paper from his fingers and dropped it on the table. "I wouldn't like you getting bored of me."  
"Bored?" Lucas shook his head but had to smile as she closed her arms around him. "Imogen, how could I possibly become bored with..."  
Imogen cut him off with a kiss. "I was only teasing you", she whispered with a smile and Lucas caressed her cheeks with his fingers as she began to unbutton his shirt.

"Are you not too drunk for that kind of thing?", Lucas asked her with unmasked amusement as he watched her face. She looked up with a small pout.  
"I'm not drunk", she said. "Well, not that drunk. Jack used to say ye're not drunk as long as ye can find yer own a... backside with yer hands."  
Lucas tried to keep a straight face. "I hate to inform you, Imogen that it is, in fact, _my_ backside you seem to have found with your hands."  
"Oh." She smiled at him under half closed lids. "Oh, that doesn't really matter, does it? It's what the priest said. One flesh, and all that."  
"One flesh, yes", Lucas said rather thoughtfully and leaned forward a little. "And am I right in assuming that you think this state could do with a little improvement?"  
"Most definitely", Imogen breathed into his face before she kissed him again and Lucas picked her up to carry her into the bedroom.

Behind them, the single candle by whose light Lucas had been reading as he had been waiting for her still burned, the flame still and undisturbed in the empty room, its light illuminating the table and on it, the piece of writing that Imogen had brought with her.

It was a contract, well and good, transferring the ownership of the Windhunter to Captain Niels Peer Henningsen, in return of a share of ten percent of the profits for a duration of ten years, then to be renewed as both parties agreed on it.

And it was signed by Captain Niels Peer Henningsen... and by Kapiteen ter zee Imogen Magdalena van Huuiten.

**x x x x x x x x**

The next morning was not as blissfully lazy as their first morning together, as Lucas had to deal with pressing business in his office again, much to his annoyance, but Imogen assured him she was fine and he left for his daily duties only very reluctantly. He could have done with a few weeks off, and was seriously tempted to find himself a fitting proxy for some time to have some peace. The thought grew more and more tempting as the morning wore on.

Imogen, on the other hand, had eagerly awaited the delivery that arrived around ten o'clock that day and was now standing in front of the large chest that two footmen had brought there, wondering how on earth she would have to go on about this business when the door opened and a young slave woman stepped in. She spotted Imogen, dropped a hasty curtsy and made her apologies before turning around again.

"No, wait", Imogen said to her and she stopped, turning around again. "What is your name?"  
"Netty, mistress."  
"Please, don't call me that. Call me milady, if you have to."  
Netty did not lift her eyes. "Yes, milady."  
Imogen looked at her, and then realised that the slaves would not know what kind of changes a new mistress of the house would bring and what it would mean to them. And there was only one thing she needed to do to change that. "Netty", she said in a low voice. "I cast my eyes upon the stars."

And finally, Netty looked up, with an amazing smile transforming her former slightly frightened face. "And they shall guide my way to freedom", she replied in a whisper, and Imogen could see that she had been right. The slaves had been worried that a new lady would mean change, not necessarily for the better.

"Netty", Imogen then said. "Can you..." She bit her lip. "Can you do... hair?"  
Netty blinked a few times. "I think I could, milady."  
Imogen stared at the opened chest and sighed. "I think I need help with this."

**x x x x x x x x**

When he could not find Imogen at lunchtime, Lucas wandered through the house in search for her rather worried, wondering where she might be. After looking into every room there was, he finally went out into the garden, walking down the gravelled path under apple trees heavy in bloom through air sweet with the smell of blossoms.

Rounding a corner at a large bush, he heard steps on the path. "Imogen?" Yet he stopped dead when he saw the woman standing there, a lady unknown to him, dressed in fine silk and satin in the colours of amber and cream. "Can I help you, madam?"

She turned around and Lucas felt his jaw drop. He had not recognised her in this dress, and with her hair so delicately braided and piled up, fine strands of curls hanging down in front of her ears, and the braids held in place by a dozen hairpins with a carved ivory pearl at the end, giving the impression she had a chain of pearls braided into her hair. He licked his suddenly dry lips. "Imogen?"

Imogen smiled shyly up at him. "Lucas? You did not recognise me?"  
Lucas took a deep breath. "Not at once, no."  
She chuckled. "Am I that estranged to you like this?"

"No", he replied hastily and took a step forward. "Not estranged, by god, no. I was just... taken off my feet. Imogen..." He shook his head and reached for her hand which he then kissed before pressing it onto his heart. "Do you have any idea how enchantingly beautiful you look like this?"  
"Do I?", Imogen replied and lowered her eyes. "I wasn't sure how you would..."  
"Imogen." His voice was deep and serene and she looked up again to find him look at her with eyes glowing with passion. "Had I not already bound myself to you with vows before god and mankind, I would ask you again to marry me. Never have I been so enchanted by any woman, and believe me, it does not matter what you wear. It is how you look at me. I admit that the way you look right now is breathtaking and..." He shook his head, and Imogen was in the rare position to see him grope for words. "I do not know how else to say it. I still cannot believe you are truly mine. So noble, so proud, so enchanting, and so beautiful... and mine." He let go of her hand and gently cupped her face in his hands. "I love you, Imogen. And I would give anything for you, everything, and be it my own life."

Imogen held his gaze, but now she shook her head with a soft smile. "No. Do not die for me, Lucas. To die for someone is easy, believe me, I was close enough far too often. One bullet, aimed or stray, a stab with a blade, and it is over. No..." She shook her head again, touching his cheek with her fingertips. "Dying for someone is easy, Lucas. And pointless, as it bereaves the other one of the one they love. It is to live for someone where the real challenge lies."

Lucas blinked a few times, but the true meaning of those words did reach his heart and soul as he looked into her eyes  
"Then I promise that I will live for you, Imogen", he whispered and she smiled.  
"And I promise I shall live for you, Lucas", she replied and closed her eyes as he leaned forward to kiss her.


	74. Chapter 72

**Chapter 72**

With the Dusky Hawk back in Port Royal's harbour and after the governor's words of praise and thanks, Jack was now assured of his standing in Port Royal and assured of a reliable source of income, with his trading business and such tremendous partners, namely Barristone, Greenwood and Watkinson. The four of them had established, by now, a very nicely working agreement and standing business, and no one the wiser. Nothing too risky, of course, as all of them had a lot to lose, just the odd bit every now and then. Honest traders, most of the time.  
Although, he had to admit, giving up the ship, even after only so short a trip from Tortuga to Jamaica, had proven to be difficult. What a glorious feeling that was, steering such a ship! He could not understand why Imogen had willingly given her up.  
But then, he thought as he stared out across the bay, he had to admit that there was a lot he did not understand about his daughter any more.

"Jack?"  
He blinked, dragged out of his reverie by Elizabeth's cautious voice.  
"Lizzie?"  
"Are you quite all right, Jack? You look very unhappy..."  
Jack shrugged. "Just... memories."

He looked at Elizabeth who was sitting on a bench in the garden next to him. Josh was sitting at their feet, playing with two wooden ships Jack had made for his third birthday. By the sound of it, a fierce and violent battle was going on between pirates and the navy. The reader might guess who eventually won.

"Memories?" Elizabeth tilted her head as she looked at Jack again. "Looked like very unhappy memories, then."  
Jack shrugged again. "It just seems so unfair that here I am, having found a little piece of happiness..." He took Elizabeth's hand with a tiny, but true smile. "...while my own daughter seems fraught by bad luck and sadness in a way that makes my heart ache."  
Elizabeth sighed softly. "Is it still that man you have told me about? That was more than two years ago..."  
"Aye." Jack stared straight ahead. "The man of standing. I just cannot imagine why Imogen would suffer such a thing so long. She used to get over these things..."  
"But there are such things you do not get over, Jack. And I think you know what I mean."  
"Aye", he said again with a rueful smile but did not take his eyes off the horizon. "And I'd never have thought that she would be the one to suffer from such a condition."  
"Suffer?"  
"In that case, I gather ye can rightly use that term." Jack squeezed Elizabeth's hand but still didn't look at her. "And beside that, she still asks for... him. Of course. How could she forget the boy? I thought back then until the very last moment that she'd change her mind and either take him back or give it all up and come with us."  
"Would you have wanted it? Her coming here?"

At this, Jack finally looked at Elizabeth, a sadness in his eyes that she had never seen there before.

"No", he said. "She would never have healed. I don't know what happened, I don't know what she did or has gone through, but I am sure as hell that if she had come with us, she would never have healed."  
Elizabeth did not know what to say to this.  
"No, Lizzie. She had to go her own way. Only that she was punished so much, not only to lose her little one but also falling in love with a man she couldn't have, that's just cruel."  
"But you said that they both fell in love with each other... is there no way that they would ever...?"  
Jack shrugged again. "He had to marry. I don't see what there's to do about it when they both didn't want to entertain an illegal affair. Not that anyone would've minded. They did. And that's the strangest bit. About her, I mean. She always took what she wanted. And gave nothing back. Just like I taught her. And now..."  
"Now she's grown out of that and into someone you no longer know."  
Looking into her eyes, Jack nodded slowly with a sad smile. "Aye. I no longer know that woman. She's still Imogen, that's as clear as rain. But she's changed so much that I've got the feeling I never knew her and never again will."

In the silence between them, the sounds coming from Josh on the ground before them seemed strangely comforting. Because what Imogen definitely had wished for was for him to be happy.

"And really", Jack went on after a while. "I know it's what she wanted, but to have to tell him... what she told us when he would ever ask about her... Lizzie, how could I tell him that about his mommy?"  
And Josh, with the uncanning instinct of every little child on earth in picking up things that were not meant for his ears, turned his head, momentarily forgetting his ships, and stared at Jack. "Mommy? Where's my mommy?"  
Jack went pale and shot Elizabeth a worried, almost panicked glance.  
Elizabeth, in turn, sighed and leaned forward. "You know Josh, we have told you. Your mommy is in heaven, with god. Where Louise's babies are, too."  
Josh drew a pout, but this time, obviously was no longer satisfied with this. "Why? Why she not coming back?"  
"You can't come back, Josh. If you go to heaven, you have to leave your body here, you can't take it with you. You cannot come back."  
"Why?"  
Elizabeth sighed. "Because when a soul leaves a body, it cannot return."  
"Why?" Josh was seemingly becoming a little frustrated.  
Jack took this moment to intervene. "No one's ever come back from heaven, Josh. Maybe it's not allowed to go back."  
Josh looked from Jack to Elizabeth and back.  
"See, Captain", Jack went on. "No one knows. You die and go to heaven. No one ever comes back."  
Josh frowned. "Is it nice in heaven?"  
"I bet it is."  
"I wanna be in heaven, too."  
Jack blinked. "Well, then be a nice boy and don't steal too many pastries from the cook and god will surely see to that."  
Pacified, Josh finally shifted his attention to his ships again.

Jack unobtrusively wiped his forehead. "Maybe we'd best avoid the topic for a while until we can explain these things to him properly", he whispered.  
Elizabeth nodded silently.

"Jack? Elizabeth?"  
They both turned to see Louise round the corner of the house, carrying her belly in front of her like a barrel. Her third pregnancy seemed to have gone well, she was shortly due, within a couple of weeks, yet the two children before this she had lost, no one knew why. Jack got up so she could sit down and she did so with a thankful smile before taking a letter from her apron.  
"Here", she said. "It is addressed to you both, a messenger dropped it off just now."  
Jack took the letter and frowned. The handwriting looked somewhat familiar, yet he was sure this was not Governor van Huuiten's writing. He broke the seal and unfolded the paper.

Elizabeth watched his face with interest. He first went pale, then started to grin. His grin broadened, and broadened more, until suddenly, it froze and turned into this terribly perplexed Sparrow-mask of unwilling confusion that only he could produce.  
"Jack?"  
He shot her a glance. "Uhm." Then he shrugged and wordlessly handed her the letter.  
Elizabeth took it, read it, and felt a smile creep onto her face, especially when she came to the reason for Jack's complex expression towards the end.

"Well, Jack, regarding what you told me earlier, that is good news, isn't it."  
"Of course it is", Jack said hastily, rather a bit too hastily, Elizabeth found and tried to keep a straight face. "Of course. I wish her all the happiness she ever wants, although... I don't quite... understand... why she had to... sell the ship..." He trailed off as he looked at Elizabeth. "All right, right righrightright!" he sighed. For the second time in his life he was feeling like this, and it was rather hard to admit. "Maybe she wasn't doing this on purpose, but why... for the second time... why him, of all men?"  
Elizabeth laughed. "Maybe you should stop asking that and rather be happy for her?", she said in a suggestive tone and Jack managed to grin, half annoyed, half embarrassed. "Oh well", he said and turned to look across the garden, across the bay, facing south. "All the best, luv", he whispered, and smiled.

**x x x x x x x x**

As he stood in his study, staring out of the window, Lucas tried to recall how long ago it had been that he had been standing here, thinking of Imogen as forever out of his reach.

A few weeks. Three weeks and a few days, to be precise. Not more than that, and this realisation left him wonder at the level of comfort and ease they felt with each other, and yet, he had still not been fully able to grasp the fact that she was, finally, well and truly his. It all still seemed like a dream, somehow.

He slowly crossed his arms, trying to recall how long ago it had been that he had been sitting here in this very room, opening his eyes after playing a piece of music and finding her sitting cross-legged in front of his chair, her face wet with tears. Four years, or little less than that.

"_Because the light... can be as frightening as the darkness."_

Shaking his head, Lucas turned around to look at the chair, the cello leaning against it.

"_Forgot me hat."_

He tapped his chin with his forefinger, a tiny wry smile on his lips.

_"I'm afraid of what will happen if I do it, but I just realised I'm more afraid of what will happen if I don't."_

He shook his head again, the smile widening slightly.

"_Governor..."_

He stared at the empty spot of carpet...

"_Lucas..."_

...and sighed.

He might as well admit he was a lovesick fool and go find her. Still smiling to himself, he left the study.

**x x x x x x x x**

When he entered the small sitting room, he found not Imogen there, but Katrien, peacefully knitting in the silence that immediately told him of the absence of the boy anywhere near.

The nurse got up when he entered and dropped him a curtsey. "Milord."  
"Katrien." He looked around. "Where is Ruben?"  
"In the garden, milord." Then she smiled. "With your lady. He's fairly besotted with her, and she seems to like him well enough."

Smiling to this, Lucas left Katrien to her needlework and made his way downstairs.

Lucas found them at the bottom of the garden, Imogen standing under one of the flowering apple trees with the eighteen month old Ruben settled on her hip. He could hear Imogen laugh, and when he came nearer and she became aware of him, she turned her head and smiled. She had a small sprig of apple blossoms in her hair, and it seemed like Ruben wanted the same decoration, yet lacked the amount or hair and the curls that Imogen had, so the twig refused to stick in his hair. And whenever Imogen managed to balance the twig on his ear, he had to pat it to feel, and the twig fell down again.

"That looks very becoming in your dark hair, my dear", Lucas said as he reached them.  
Imogen smiled, and Ruben held out the twig he had been holding to Lucas. "Da!"  
"Why, thank you", Lucas said and gingerly took the twig, it had a slightly chewed-on look. Imogen chuckled. "Are you amusing yourself?", he asked with a smile.  
"Tremendously", she replied. "What brings you here?"  
"Nothing." Then he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Nothing but the wish for your company."  
"Missed me so much?", Imogen replied with a soft smile and Lucas straightened up, cleared his throat and then shrugged.  
"As a matter of fact... yes."  
Imogen's smile softened. "How about some tea, then?"  
Lucas returned the smile. "Gladly."

They dropped the boy off with Katrien before they retired into Lucas' study. Yet before Imogen could say anything, Lucas stepped towards her and surprised her with the ferocity with which he pulled her into is embrace.  
"Are you all right?", she asked as she closed her arms around him.  
"Perfectly", he murmured into her hair. "Now that I finally have made the right choice for once."  
"Lucas?"  
He leaned back a little to look at her. "I should have kissed you then, Imogen. Never before have I been touched so deeply by the sight of any human being than when I saw you sitting at my feet, moved to tears by my music. I should have listened to my heart then and there, I should have wiped those tears away with my hands and kissed you." He ran a finger across her cheek and tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. "Whenever I made the choice between the path of duty and the call of my heart, I made the wrong choice. And by god, I shall never do so again, come hell or high weather. I..."  
"Lucas", Imogen interrupted him gently, searching his eyes which glowed with a strange sincerity. "Don't forget that no choice of duty you will ever make shall part me from you again. Because I am your wife." She smiled and ran her finger along the contour of his chin. "And you are my lawfully wedded husband. And wither you shall go, there I shall follow. Unto death shall part us."  
The expression on Lucas' face softened considerably.

"I had everything I ever could have wished for", he said after a while in what was almost a whisper. "But I had not love, and I was nothing, and I felt nothing. Because I looked on all this, the wealth, the rank, the reputation, all the riches and the style I was surrounded by, with the eyes of a man who cannot have the one thing he wants most, for these things were precisely what kept me apart from you. Do I need them?" he shrugged and shook his head. "I do not know, for I have never known another life than this. I do not know how I could cope without all this, but I do know, Imogen, that even when I had all I could ask for, and had not you, I did not like it. And if I ever came to make such a choice again, I would not have to hesitate."  
Imogen chewed her lower lip for a second before answering. "You said so before, Lucas, and I do believe you."  
"It is not a matter of believing me or not that makes me say it twice, my love", he gave back with a gentle voice. "I think it is more the desperation about the stubborn stupidity with which I clung to what I thought was right yet felt was wrong, and thus... lost so much time I could have... spent with you." He swallowed and suddenly averted his face.

Imogen leaned in a little and placed a hand on his cheek, and when he hesitatingly looked at her again, his lips pressed together in a narrow line, she could see he was fighting his tears. But before she could say anything, he threw his arms around her again and pulled her close, meeting her lips in a passionate, almost fierce and hungry kiss.  
Reaching around him, Imogen then grabbed the wig of his head and threw it into some corner of the room, burying her hands in his hair as she let him claim her lips in a way that made the blood pound in her ears.

He finally released her after endless moments, as breathless as she was, and smiled at her while he gently arranged a few stray curls of Imogen's hair.  
"Sit down, my love", he whispered. "I shall play for you."  
And as he settled down on his chair, Imogen lowered herself down onto the carpet, exchanging a smile with Lucas before he leaned over his cello to play.

When he had finished the first piece, there was a cautious and polite knock at the door, and when he bade the person come it, it turned out to be Katrien, carrying Ruben on her arm.  
"I am sorry for the interruption, milord, but he kept getting all excited and going on about the music, and I was meaning to ask if you would mind if he..."  
"Oh, not at all", Imogen gave back and held out her arms. "You want to listen to the music?", she asked the boy as Katrien handed him to her and he nodded with huge eyes and extended an arm, pointing a finger at his father. "Da!"  
Imogen settled the boy on her lap as Katrien closed the door again and left them, and Lucas smiled at the two of them, Imogen sitting cross-legged on the carpet, her arms closed around the boy in her lap while Ruben stared at his father with wide eyes and thumb in his mouth, snuggling comfortably into Imogen's embrace.

And as he picked up his bow, he thought, or imagined, or maybe really saw, for a second, an image of Elysande, standing behind the two of them with a fond and happy smile on her face. And he knew, beyond any doubt, that now, finally, she would be able to rest in peace, for he had fulfilled her last dying wish.

"_I would have you be happy, Lucas..."_


	75. Chapter 73

**Chapter 73**

Still smiling to himself after having read the letter, Lucas left his office to find Imogen to give the letter to her, as well as the small wooden box that had accompanied it. He found her eventually in the small salon downstairs, but the moment he entered the room, he could see there was something wrong with her. She was standing at the window, her arms tightly around her body, her shoulders hunched. He slowed his steps. "Imogen?"

She slowly turned around, and Lucas could see she had been crying and was trying very hard not to do so.  
"Imogen..." He hurried over. "Imogen, what is wrong? What has happened?"  
She swallowed. "I am going to die."  
Lucas blinked and almost dropped the box. He stared at it, then put it and the letter onto the nearest table before cautiously laying a hand on Imogen's shoulder. "What do you mean? What is wrong?"  
Imogen avoided his eyes and stared down. "I am going to die, Lucas."  
"But... why?  
A long silence followed this in which Lucas, his heart racing, managed to bring a hand under Imogen's chin to gently lift her face. Searching her eyes, he could see that she was afraid, terribly afraid. "Imogen", he whispered. "What happened?"  
She shrugged. "That what happens when two people get married and do what people do."  
Lucas blinked again, but the moment his brain provided him with the answer, she spoke again, her voice toneless and as heavy as lead.  
"I'm with child."

It took Lucas a few seconds to manage to get his brain into working order again. "But Imogen... why does that mean you are going to die?"  
She looked at him again, fear burning in her eyes. "Because I almost died last time! It was hell! It was... I can't possibly survive something like that again! I was lucky to have lived, and I am not going to be so lucky again. I just can't!" She sobbed and angrily wiped her eyes, trying to keep herself together.  
With a sigh, Lucas took a step forward and closed his arms around her, pulling her close to him. She resisted for a second or two, then she let her head drop against his shoulder. He held her for a while, stroking her hair, and finally, kissed the top of her head and leaned back.

"Imogen", he said gently and she looked up, her eyes red. "Imogen, I think you have forgotten about some minor details", he went on and gently placed a hand on her cheek. "Significant details", he added and smiled. "Imogen, you are not on a ship any more. You will not have to fight for your life, no one will shoot at you, stab at you, injure you, or otherwise try to harm you in any way. You will not have to sleep in a narrow cot but in a comfortable bed, you will have all the food and all the fresh water you want, you will not have to suffer any kind of deprivation." He ran his thumb across her cheekbone. "You will not have to do any work, any hardship. You have a home, here, and you have servants to do your every bidding. You will not even have to pick up your handkerchief yourself if you drop it. And then, when your time comes, you will have built up a lot of strength because you have rested yourself and had good food to eat all the time, and you will have the best doctor and the best midwife at your disposal."

He watched her closely, and could see that she was not trying to deny anything of what he had said, but desperately trying to believe in it.  
"And finally", he went on, "You will never have to ask yourself if your child is a child of love, because, I might vainly say, you have me. And I shall gladly spoil you absolutely rotten, I shall bring you a footstool for your feet, and a pillow for your back, and I shall feed you all the apple tart you can possibly eat."  
Imogen slowly looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. "Are you making fun of me?"  
"No." Lucas leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I am taking your fears serious, and try to make you see that you need not be afraid."  
Imogen took a deep breath. "I..."  
"Yes?"  
She tried to smile. "I think you are right."  
He returned the smile and leaned forward again, this time to kiss her lips. "You will be fine."  
Leaning forward, Imogen snuggled into his embrace again. "Lucas?", she whispered.  
"Yes?"  
"Were you serious about the apple tart as well?"  
Biting back a grin, Lucas kissed her curls again. "Of course I was. Would you like some?"  
"Later, maybe." She sighed.

He continued holding her, yet after a while she looked up at him again. "Lucas?"  
"Yes?"  
"What if I would like to learn something new?"  
He smiled. "What is it you are thinking of?"

He could not think of what it could be she was thinking of, yet he knew that so far, her efforts had been tremendous and he admired her. With the same determination and stubbornness that must have seen her through fights, battles, illness, fevers and almost lethal injuries, she had set about becoming what she called 'a better lady'. He had assured her that she was absolutely fine, and that there was no need for her to feel she had to be better than she already was, but she had insisted and spent most of her time in the library.  
And even though he meant what he said, he had to admit he enjoyed their conversations more and more, as in the past three months, she had made efforts to read all sorts of books, history, religion, politics, and even philosophy, although she admitted the ancient Greeks were giving her some trouble. Lucas had eased that feeling with the simple statement that he himself had troubles with the ancient Greeks as well, and they had spent the rest of that evening puzzling over some specific passage of Aristotle.

He had known her mind to be sharp and clever, if uneducated, and this was proven more and more true the more she educated herself. And thus he was really puzzled as to what it was she might possibly want now.

Imogen bit her lower lip and shrugged. "I don't know if I can, really, possibly, I mean... maybe I am too old but I'd really like to try."  
"And what are you thinking of?" Lucas asked again and she smiled somewhat embarrassedly up at him.  
"I'd like to learn how... how to play the harpischord."  
Lucas blinked. "Do you?"  
"Yes, but I know that I might be..."  
"You never know that until you try it out", he replied and put a finger under her chin to make her look up again. "And if you want, I will find you someone to teach you."  
They exchanged a smile before Lucas leaned forward to kiss her again.

"Why the harpischord, though?", he asked then.  
Imogen smiled. "It... it sounded so beautiful, when you were playing, you and Elysande, the harpischord and the cello... and I wanted... I thought I..."  
"You wish to make music together with me?"  
She nodded.  
"I am honoured." Lucas smiled and cupped her cheeks in his hands. "And incredibly pleased. And yes, I shall most certainly find a teacher for you. And I am sure you will do fine. You have a soul for music, Imogen."  
"Maybe just not the hands", she replied.  
"Do not doubt yourself ere you have even begun", Lucas gave back rather sternly. "Just be aware that learning to play an instrument is hard work."  
"I am not afraid of hard work", Imogen gave back. "Although I doubt I will ever be able to play with such an ease as you do."  
"Ease?" He frowned.  
"The ease of a flying bird", Imogen said. "It is amazing to watch... and to listen, of course."  
"The ease of a flying bird?" Lucas shook his head. "I do not know what effort a bird has to use to learn how to fly... but I do know what effort has gone into my cello. Hours of practise. And if it looks easy, then it does so only to a mind who has no idea of how much effort it takes to reach this so called easiness. But I am sure", he added in a much gentler voice, "that you will overcome the stage of hard, unrewarding work."

Imogen tilted her head and smiled slightly. "I will certainly do my best."  
Lucas returned that smile. "I am looking forward to our first duet, my love", he said with a smile.

**x x x x x x x x**

"So what is in this box you father sent you?", Lucas asked her as they had retired upstairs after their dinner.

Imogen leaned forward and picked up the box with a smile. "Childhood memories."  
With a mildly questioning smile, Lucas tilted his head.  
Imogen stared at the box, but was clearly seeing something very far away. And long ago. "See, when I was a girl, my father had this box for me, full of treasures, for me to play with. My pirate hoard, so to say. It is nothing of any value, just a couple of trinkets, he bought them cheaply here and there. Brass rings, copper bracelets, cheap necklaces made from glass beads and the likes. But I used to play with them and think myself as the queen of Sheba or some other noble princess and pretend I'd be rich." She looked up and chuckled. "He sent this to me so I could give this to my daughters to play with so they wouldn't have to play with my jewellery."

Lucas leaned back in his armchair with a smile as Imogen opened the box and pulled something out. And in the manner of all those boxes, no matter how carefully you might have put the items into it, what will come out is, always, a big knotted bobble of necklaces with a few intertwined other things. A ring fell to the ground and rolled under the table, yet Imogen ignored it as she stared at the knot of memories and picked at one particular item.  
It was only after Lucas realised she had gone very quiet that he looked up from his book again to find her staring at something in her hand which she had freed from the tangle, and he felt his frown deepen at the expression of her face.

Imogen noticed it and looked up.

"_Lucas?"  
"Yes?"  
"I want you to tell me where you got this from." With a smile, Imogen trailed her hand across his belly while she looked up at his face, his cheek rsting against his bare shoulder. _

_Lucas looked down at himself and cleared his throat, then smiled. "It is a simple story, really. It is nothing more than a keepsake. You see, when I was a boy, my mother visited her mother in Amsterdam with me and a few of my brothers. My grandmother is not Dutch, but hails from Denmark. During that visit, the last one, and the only one I remember, my grandmother told us boys about her father, and about the ancient Vikings that had been his ancestors. He must have been very proud of this fact, as he had collected various things from Viking times and my grandmother showed us an heirloom, a pendant, which allegedly had belonged to an ancestor of hers, one Erik the Red, who supposedly had acquired the thing when he was plundering Ireland. I do not know how much truth was in this story, or how my great-grandfather could claim to have an ancestor by that name from seven hundred years past, but we as boys were listening fascinated, and even as my brothers lost their interest, I did not lose mine, as young as I was back then. And when we parted, my grandmother gave the pendant to me and said to take good care, and never forget my roots and my heritage. She said that the blood of Red Erik was flowing in my veins, a fact that, as you can imagine, makes the spirit of any six year old soar." He smiled a lopsided little smile and Imogen had to giggle._

"_My mother kept it safe for me until I was sixteen, and gave it to me when I was about to leave with the navy for my first mission. I wore it proudly, and the sad end of it is shortly to follow. When we arrived in St Eustatius, my comrades taunted me, the youngest in their cadre, into getting a picture stitched into my skin. A lot o them who had been with the navy for a while had one, yet I refused. I was called a wimp, as you can imagine, and to show I was a man..." He broke off and sighed, as if he was still ashamed of his behaviour so many years ago, "...I showed them how much I could drink. It was, as you can imagine, _

_not really a lot, but the five of us really made an effort. In the end, we were so drunk that we did not make it onto the ship that night, and came to our senses in some back alley of the harbour, robbed bare to the bones. And yet, even the disciplinary action taken against me and my comrades for having lost navy property, as they had taken even our belts, was nothing compared to the fact that the thieves had stolen my pendant, the ancient heirloom, in my mother's family for, if you can believe the words, more than seven hundred years. And I lost it."_

_Imogen looked at his face, set grim in his anger towards his own foolishness, even after so long a time. She did not know what she could possibly say to ease this feeling.  
"And this is why I bear what you called this interesting feature. I got it as soon as the possibility presented itself again. It is the motif of the pendant that I lost, and I wore it ever since as a reminder to never let others take the control over you and as a symbol of self restraint." He sighed. "And this is the reason why I wore my mother's ring for almost twenty years without ever taking it off. I had no intention of loosing another heirloom."_

"Imogen?"  
"Lucas..." Her voice seemed a little strained. "How old were you when you arrived in the Caribbean for the first time?"  
He frowned. "Seventeen."  
"And you are nine years older than me. So I would have been eight. A little girl, playing with trinkets."  
Lucas leaned forward. "Imogen?"  
Imogen looked up again and swallowed. "I played with these things until I was twelve or so before I lost my interest in them, and I..." She broke off and stared at the thing in her hand for a while before looking up again. Then she extended her arm, her hand closed around it, and when Lucas extended his arm, hand open, she dropped it, slowly, chain first, into his hand. A pendant, small, round, and made from silver and inlaid green and blue enamel, about two inches in diameter. Lucas very slowly moved his eyes towards his open palm.

No one spoke for a while as they both stared at the little pendant in Lucas' hand.

Finally, he looked up at her and narrowed his eyes.  
"He must have bought it somewhere", Imogen said hastily. "I cannot imagine him stealing it. He's not a pickpocket!"  
"I was not even thinking such a thing", Lucas said very slowly before he picked the pendant up.  
"It might not be yours... maybe it only looks like it."  
Lucas slowly turned it around to look at the small marks that had been scratched into the underside. "Do you know what these are?"  
Mutely, Imogen shook her head.  
"Viking runes", Lucas said, his voice slow and thoughtful. "And do you want to know what they say?"  
This time she nodded.  
"Erik."

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Imogen took a deep breath, stood up and took the pendant from Lucas unresisting fingers as she walked around him. She stopped behind his chair, laid the pendant on his chest and fastened the chain around his neck.

"It seems almost ridiculous that you have been playing with this as a little girl."  
"Maybe." Imogen sat down again opposite him and smiled shyly.  
"Will you ever cease to amaze me?" This time he smiled, as well, finally wrenching his eyes off the pendant around his neck.  
"Maybe."  
They shared another smile.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_There is of course no substitute for work. I myself have practised constantly, as I have all my life. I have been told I play the cello with the ease of a bird flying. I do not know with how much effort a bird learns to fly, but I do know what effort has gone into my cello._ Pablo Casals, Spanish cellist, conductor and composer


	76. Chapter 74

Sassy me matey, cheer up! This one's for you!!

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

**Chapter 74**

It was in the middle of the night, long before dawn, as Lucas awoke, and even while he blinked sleepily, wondering what had awoken him, he realised that Imogen beside him was tense and gasping for air. He flung himself around. "Imogen?"  
"Lucas..." She breathed through gritted teeth. "I think it's starting."  
Within seconds, he was out of the bed and pulled the bell rope to summon a servant even before slipping his dressing gown on.

A sleepy looking serving girl opened the door a few minutes later. "Milord?"  
"Quick. Send someone for the doctor and the midwife. My wife has gone into labour."  
The maid stared at him for a second, blinking wide eyed, then dropped a curtsey and vanished hastily to do his bidding.

Lucas went back to the bed and cautiously sat down beside Imogen, taking her hand. "How do you feel?"  
Imogen swallowed and took hold of his hand. "I'm scared. But it doesn't feel as bad as I remember it. Yet."  
"Have faith in yourself, Imogen", he replied and squeezed her hand between his. "I for my part have faith in you. You will be fine, and by sunrise you will have your child in your arms."  
She managed a smile. "Our child."  
Lucas lifted her hand to kiss her fingers. "Our child. I wish I could help you, Imogen, but this is a battle you will have to fight alone."  
Imogen nodded. "I know. But as long as you are with me..."  
"I shall not leave your vicinity. But allow me to get dressed before the house is up and about."  
Nodding again, this time with a smile, Imogen let go of his hand.

After about half an hour, in which Lucas did not leave Imogen's side, the midwife and the doctor arrived, both equipped with bags.  
Anneliese shot Imogen a scrutinizing look. "Normally I don't have my husband with me for a normal birth like that, but I figure it's as well to have someone to distract the distraught man in the house. Off you go, and have a drink and some breakfast."  
Squeezing Imogen's hand one last time, Lucas got up and followed de Beer into his study where he found himself unable to settle down even as the doctor told him to have a seat and stop fretting.

"She is fine and healthy, young and strong", he said. "There is absolutely no need to worry." Yet both the tone of his voice and his facial expression suggested understanding and sympathy for the fact that of course Lucas was worried nonetheless. Having experienced childbirth from both sides, the medical point of view and from that of a father to be (five times, to be precise), he knew exactly what Lucas was going through and also, that there was always a risk involved with giving birth. Things could go wrong, after all. Best not to think about it, and not let the father to be think about them, either.

"I doubt that you could set your mind towards a game of chess, Governor, so I was so free as to bring a deck of cards." He indicated towards the table and giving in to his fate, condemned to wait in anxiety for god knows how many hours, Lucas sat down and let the doctor summon a servant to bring some breakfast before he sat down and dealt the cards.

The food arrived and with both some coaxing and some doctoral authority, de Beer forced some of it into the distraught Governor. The sun was rising by now, and no sound or any other sign of things happening could be sensed through the two doors separating the two men from the bedroom in which the events were taking place.

**x x x x x x x x**

At first, Imogen glowed with happy excitement, sipping the herbal infusion given to her by the midwife as she walked up and down in the bedroom. Occasionally she had to grip one of the bedposts when a contraction came, but all in all, she felt confident and less scared than before. Things weren't going as half as bad as she had imagined them. Or rather, remembered them.  
By sunrise then she had to lie down as the contractions were becoming stronger and came in shorter intervals, yet he midwife still hardly looked up from her knitting. Imogen took this as a good sign, even if she felt by now rather strained and anxious.

"How much longer?", she asked the midwife in one of the breaks that she used to gasp for air to calm her breathing and Anneliese looked up, mustering her with hardly any expression on her face.  
"It has hardly begun, my dear", the midwife replied. "But that's a good thing, this. You don't want it to go too fast, because there's a higher chance you'll tear and bleed. Steady and slow, that's what we want. Keep breathing."  
Imogen gritted her teeth and nodded. She would rather have this over with sooner than later, but there was absolutely no way to speed things up.

It was not before Imogen thought, after quite some time, that she couldn't go on like this much longer that the midwife finally rose from her chair and walked around the bed to adjust the pillows under Imogen's back and dig her fingers into her abdomen a few times.  
"Now, it has begun", she said with a reassuring smile and Imogen gulped for air and nodded.

**x x x x x x x x**

When Lucas finally allowed himself to cast a look at the clock again it was almost midday, and still there had been no news. He was about to ask the doctor if this all was normal when the door of the study opened and Anneliese stuck her head through the door, looking at Lucas without any expression on her face. "She insists on seeing you."  
Feeling somewhat weak in the knees, Lucas got up and followed her into the bedroom.

Pale and exhausted and drenched in sweat Imogen stared at him from the pillows as he entered and his heart almost stopped then and there. He hurried to her side and took one of her hands, cold and clammy to the touch, in his. "Imogen..."  
"Lucas", she gasped. "Please, don't hate the child because it made me die. Please, promise me."  
"Imogen." He squeezed the hand, trying to suppress the feeling of cold dread that was creeping over him. "Imogen, you are not going to die..."  
"I am going to die." She stared at him in desperation."Please, promise me!"  
Unsure and deeply confused, Lucas cast a hasty glance at the midwife who nodded hardly perceptibly.  
"I promise", he said then. "I promise, Imogen. But please, do not give up on yourself, not just yet. You are strong, and you have fought worse battles in your life."  
"The more you fight, the more likely you are about to engage in one you can't win anymore", Imogen whispered hoarsely and swallowed. "I am sorry, if I.."  
"Imogen." Lucas leaned forward a little and took a deep breath. "Do not waste you strength in feeling sorry, use it to fight. Do you remember the promise you gave me, the day after we married?"  
Imogen stared at him helplessly.  
"You do." Lucas squeezed her hand as the midwife laid her hand on his shoulder, indicating he had to go again. "You do, Imogen. You promised." He then let go of her hand and left, yet cast one last glance at her pale form in the bed, giving her a gentle, reassuring smile, as good as he could.

Before he could close the door, the midwife stepped close to him, speaking in a very low voice. "They all think they are going to die at this time."  
Lucas nodded, mildly reassured.  
"Mind you", Anneliese added. "Sometimes, they do." With these words, she shut the door into his face and Lucas made his way back into his study, not knowing if he should rest assured or more worried than ever before.

Imogen could not hear the words Anneliese said to him, but she watched Lucas go with a feeling of having been abandoned, even if her conscious mind knew this wasn't the case and he just could not stay. She lost her train of thoughts with the next contraction, yet after that, as Anneliese wiped her face with a moist rag, she suddenly remembered.

"_It is to live for someone where the real challenge lies."  
_

No, this wouldn't do. She stared out of the window to take a few breaths and watched a cloud drift past, a tiny, if tired smile on her lips.

**x x x x x x x x  
**

More time passed, and by now Lucas was beyond staring at the clock every other minute. He just kept pacing through the room like a restless cat, back and forth between the window and the door to his dressing room beyond which the bedroom was, staring at the door as if he could will the wood to become transparent and reveal what was going on.

The doctor, on the other hand, knew perfectly well in what kind of state Lucas was in and neither said nor did anything apart from offering him drinks which Lucas declined. Had he taken only half of them, he would by now be most likely too drunk to sit straight, let alone think.  
But maybe this wouldn't be so bad a state of mind, after all, what with him staring at the door in the knowledge that Imogen was suffering without him being able to help her in any way whatsoever, and due to the fact that he... that they, in fact, and to be honest... but still...  
He stopped with a sigh, staring at the door again, and sincerely wished he had never touched her.

Lost in these dark broodings, he almost jumped when the door opened and Anneliese stepped in, this time with a smile on her face. Lucas felt his heart race so fast that he could not even breathe.  
"Congratulations", Anneliese said. "A girl. Mother and daughter are well and fine. You can come in and see her now."  
After a deep breath to calm himself, Lucas then walked past the midwife and into his bedroom. This time, she was smiling at him, such a gleaming, shining smile of triumph that he could not help but smile in return as he sat down onto the bed beside her to look at the little bundle she held out to him.  
"Your daughter", she said, her voice hoarse and tired. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Lucas looked at the pinkish face staring up at him in a frown of perpetual confusion, as if demanding an explanation of him as to what had happened to her warm and cosy world all of a sudden. A shock of black hair peeked out from under the blanket she was wrapped in.  
"She is", Lucas gave back as he handed the child back to Imogen. "Just like her mother."

"I would have her bear a Dutch name", Imogen said then as she looked at the face of her tiny daughter. "What was your mother's name, Lucas?"  
"Pietronella Saskia", Lucas replied and looked at the child again. "But she never liked Pietronella."  
"I like Saskia, though. But my mother's name was Heather, and I don't know if..." She stared thoughtfully ahead of her and Lucas was struck by an idea.  
"How about...Jacobina?"  
"Jacobina?" This time she looked at him with a smile. "That is a Dutch name?"  
"Definitely."  
"I lke the sound of it. Jacobina. Saskia Jacobina." She looked at the girl in her arms. "What do you think?"  
Saskia's yawn seemed to say that he couldn't really be bothered and Imogen leaned forward to kiss her forehead with a smile. "Saskia Jacobina. Welcome to the world, my love."

**x x x x x x x x**

After Lucas had left her to see the doctor and the midwife off, Imogen laid back into the pillows, the child in her arms. Yet as she had hardly closed her eyes, she heard the door of the bedroom open again. Expecting it to be Lucas, she was a little confused when her eyes met an empty doorframe, but then she looked down and saw Ruben, who was by now, with two and a half, just about high enough to reach a door handle if he stretched himself a little.  
He seemed to have stolen away out of his bed, for it was the time he was put there for his afternoon nap and was wearing only a nightshirt.

"Ruben?"  
He craned his neck. "Ruben want see new baby."  
Imogen had to smile. "Then come, close the door and come here."  
Ruben pushed the door shut and patted over on his bare feet. "Where is new baby?"  
"Over here."  
The boy climbed into the bed and clambered over the folds of blanket to look over Imogen's body at the girl in her arms. "Tiny!" His eyes widened in delight. "Tiny new baby!"  
"Shh. Yes, she is very small. You have to be very quiet or you might scare her."  
Ruben looked at Imogen with earnest, big eyes and nodded, a finger across his lips. "Very quiet." Then he looked at his new sister again, and back at Imogen, for a few times. "Why she sleeps in your bed?"  
"Because she is so small and newborn. She has to be close to her mama."  
Ruben looked at Saskia again and back at Imogen with a mournful expression. "Ruben no mama."

Imogen swallowed. After a few seconds, she licked her lips and blinked a few times. "No, Ruben, your mama has gone to heaven."  
The boy looked at the infant. "New baby has mama." He looked at Imogen again.  
After a deep breath, Imogen tried to smile. "I can be your mama too, if you want, Ruben."  
Ruben smiled in delight. "You be my mama!"  
"I'll gladly be your mama, little Ruben", Imogen replied with a small lump in her throat, yet still she couldn't suppress a yawn. "I am tired, Ruben, I have to take a nap. Do you want to nap with us?"  
Not needing a second invitation, Ruben crawled under the blanket that Imogen lifted for him and snuggled close to her. Imogen put an arm around him and closed her eyes as Ruben put his thumb in his mouth.

**x x x x x x x x**

When Lucas came back upstairs again he encountered frantically running servants and a very upset and distraught Katrien.  
"Has he given you the slip again?"  
"He has, and out of his bed at that. I've looked everywhere, and he can't by god have gotten far, wearing only a nappy and a nightshirt. But no one can find him."  
"I agree, he cannot be far. I am sure you will find him in some corner or the other, just like last time." Then he was struck by an idea. "Have you told him what has happened this morning?"  
Katrien blinked a few times and crossed her arms. "Why, sure, milord. He kept on asking where you two were."  
"I see." With a calculating look on his face, Lucas cast a glance at the bedroom door and then walked up to it and cautiously opened it.

"I found him", he said to Katrien who hurried to his side and looked past him at the bed where Rubens white curls were just visible under Imogen's blanket, all three of them sound asleep.  
"Oh, bless", the nurse said with a sigh and a smile and Lucas nodded and with a mile, he entered the bedroom and silently closed the door behind him.

Equipped with a book he then sat down on the chair next to Imogen's side of the bed and leaned back, looked at the three sleeping faces again and opened the book, passing the time with reading while he watched over the sleep of his family.

**x x x x x x x x**

Lucas did not extinguish the candle at once as he had gone to bed that night, but turned towards Imogen to see if she was still awake. "Imogen?"  
She turned her head. "Yes?"  
"Imogen, I had quite some time to think this afternoon and I..." He broke off, trying to think of a way to phrase it.  
Imogen turned around fully and looked at him. "What is it?"  
He reached for her hand and ran his thumb across it. "I thought about your son, Imogen."  
She smiled a sad, soft smile. "So did I."  
"Imogen", Lucas began again. "I want you to know that if you want him back, then I shall make him welcome here in my house and gladly give him my name, so he and Ruben might grow up as brothers."

Imogen swallowed and blinked a few times. "Are you honest?", she asked hoarsely.  
"Yes", he gave back and sought her eyes. "Of course I am."  
"Lucas..." she swallowed again, heavily, and used her other hand to wipe her eyes. "You have no idea how much this means to me, but..."  
Lucas frowned. "But...?"  
"But I can't", Imogen finished with a whisper.  
" But why..."

"No." She shook her head. "Don't you see? I gave him up, then, I gave him to his father, and to my father, to take good care of him because I was too afraid I couldn't. I wanted him to be happy, always and ever only for him to be happy. He is almost four now, what will happen if I just go there and fetch him here? A stranger, a woman he has never before seen in his life, taking him away from his father, his mother, for Louise surely is the only mother he has ever known, away from his grandfather who adores him and loves him to bits and his grandmother who most likely does the same. And I bring him here, into a strange city, a strange house, full of other strangers who speak a language he does not understand and in any case would most likely regard him only as a bastard. How could I do this to him? I want him back, Lucas, don't think I wouldn't want him back. But I cannot do this to him."  
She wiped her eyes again and looking at her, Lucas had to admit that she was right. "I am sorry, my love. I should not have..."  
"It's all right." Imogen smiled at him through her tears. "Don't blame yourself. I have thought about this ever since I came here. But it cannot be. It could, but it would be for me, only. Not for him. For him, his mother his someone whom he never will see, who is dead and watches him from heaven. How could I explain why I gave him away at first and now come and claim him back?"

Lucas leaned forward and smoothed a few curls back from her face.  
Imogen managed another smile. "I gave him away because I love him. And because I love him, I have to let him have his own life. I have no place in his life anymore."  
"It takes a lot of strength to come to such a decision", Lucas replied gently.  
"I don't know if strength is the word I would use", Imogen replied with a shrug. "But I do know that it is right, beyond doubt. Maybe he'll come to me, one day, because he has found out about me, although I wouldn't know how, as I asked them not to tell him. But until then..." She managed another smile. "Until then I shall take care of the boy who was entrusted to me."  
Tilting his head, Lucas gave her a puzzled look. "Ruben?"  
She nodded. "His mother died to save my life. And I have promised that he would be like my own son to me. I promised him the day he was born, and I promise it now to his mother, that I shall forever treat him as my own. And maybe Elysande will watch my own son and be his mama in heaven for me."

She wiped her eyes again and Lucas embraced her and pulled her close after blowing out the candle and then laid back, resting her head against his shoulder as he pulled the blanket up around her, holding her as she fell asleep. And without any doubt he knew, as he stared into the empty darkness before him, remembering Elysande, that this would be an arrangement that would please her.


	77. Chapter 75

**Chapter 75**

After searching the whole house for the two little rascals who had given Imogen the slip directly after coming home from mass, Imogen was so angry that she was almost furious. She had told the two to stay in the nursery and of course, within minutes, both Ruben and Sassy had disappeared and were nowhere to be found.

In a last attempt Imogen entered the large salon downstairs where the table had already been laid for their Sunday dinner. She had a look around, yet the room was empty. But, as she was about to leave again, she noticed a small gap on one of the large silver platters bearing small, cream stuffed cakes. Two, to be precise, were missing. Imogen felt a furrow in her brow deepen and crossed her arms when she heard a sound, a tiny sound, as if someone was trying very hard not to giggle, coming from somewhere in the corner. From somewhere near the floor.

Very slowly, she walked towards the end of the table and bend down, lifting the tablecloth. Two guilt stricken faces looked at her, and two pairs of huge grey eyes stared into the abyss of certain doom.

"Out."  
Sassy's lower lip was already trembling, and Ruben was pale with at the same time glowing cheeks. Protective of his little sister, even at his tender age of six, he took her hand and Sassy, only four, stared at her mother with tears already rising in her eyes, after crawling out from under the table.  
"And what is the meaning of this?"  
There was no denying the stains of whipped cream on Sassy's dress, nor the crumbs on Ruben's shirt. Both children stared at her in mute despair.  
"Stealing cakes from the table. At Sunday. The holiest day in the week, and you steal food from the table, and directly after coming home from church!" Imogen took a deep breath as the two children moved closer together. "And what do you think your father will say to this?"  
It was the straw that broke the camel's back, for Sassy suddenly sobbed and started to cry. Ruben grew even paler and bit his lower lip.

In the silence that followed Imogen's words, the footsteps in the corridor sounded like the drums of doom. The door opened, Lucas came in, and with a mildly confused expression, looked first at Imogen who was barely reining in her anger and then at the two children who were staring at him, pale and red eyed, as if he was their judge and executioner in person. "What is going on here?"  
"You tell him", Imogen said into the direction of the children, and Lucas looked at her again, and back at his children.  
"I'm sorry", Sassy sobbed and wiped her nose without letting go of her brother's hand.  
Lucas raised his eyebrows and looked at Ruben who swallowed.  
"We took some cakes", the boy finally managed.

It finally dawned on Lucas what had happened, or rather, what was happening. While he could very well understand Imogen's anger about such misbehaviour and in fact, shared it, he was sure that the one and only thing he had never wished to happen had been said. He cleared his throat, cast Imogen another look and then slowly went down into a crouch to stop towering over the children like a giant. Level with their eyes, he spoke again, keeping his voice calm.

"Why?"  
Sassy sobbed again and Ruben lowered his eyes.  
"Have you ever gone hungry in my house?"  
Both children mutely shook their heads.  
"Then why do you have to take food without being allowed to yet? You knew this was all for us to eat."  
Another silence followed in which Lucas just looked at the two of them without any menace or anger.  
"We did not want to wait", Ruben finally managed without looking at his father.  
"I see." Lucas cast Imogen another glance who was returning the look with a rather thoughtful expression.

"I'm sorry, father."  
Lucas took a breath to keep his voice calm. "Look at me when you speak to me, Ruben."  
The boy managed to look at him. "I am sorry, father."  
"I do hope you are", Lucas gave back. "I would not like my children stealing their food. Such is surely far beneath them."  
"We won't do it again." Ruben attempted to straighten up somewhat. "I promise." Then he nudged his little sister who stopped sobbing.  
"Sorry", she said.  
"You will not do it again?"  
Sassy shook her head.  
"Right." Lucas slowly straightened up again. "Now go to Katrien and have her clean you up. I shall see you at dinner."  
Both children stared at him, as if not really sure their trial was already over. But when Lucas did not say anything else, they slowly made their way towards the door.

"You know what will happen now?", Lucas then said as they had reached the door.  
They turned around again, both staring up at him with almost panicked expressions.  
"You will not have any cream cakes for dessert tonight, as you already had yours. Now off you go."  
Timid like beaten dogs, the children disappeared.

Lucas watched their retreat. "What on earth did you say to them?"  
"What do you mean?", Imogen gave back, walking up to his side.  
"Did you threaten them with me?"  
"Threaten?"  
"Wait until your father hears of this", Lucas said with a knitted brow. "Or something like it."  
"Well, in fact I said: And what do you think your father will say to this?"  
Lucas nodded. "I thought so."  
"Lucas, what's wrong with you?"

He turned around to face her, a wry smile on his lips. "I ask you to never use such a phrase again. Imogen, I lived in mortal fear of my father during my whole childhood and such sentences meant torment and oftentimes hours of fearful dread to me. Never use words like them again, please. I will have them respect me, but I do not want them to be afraid of me."  
Imogen looked at him, then took a deep breath. "I see. I am sorry, I did not mean to..."  
"Of course", Lucas replied gently and took one of her hands. "But I hope you do understand why I would not wish for these things to be said."  
"I do", she gave back with a smile. "A lot of people mistake fear for respect. I shall not say something like it ever again to them."  
Lucas kissed her hand and smiled. "I thank you for it."  
"And besides", Imogen added, "The verdict you have spoken is far worse a punishment than anything to do with physical violence."  
Another wry smile twitched Lucas' lips. "And one that leaves a lasting impression, I hope."  
"The way they stared at you? I sincerely believe so."

**x x x x x x x x**

Both Ruben and Saskia were exceptionally well behaved during the dinner, as if trying to make up for the earlier crime they had so carelessly committed. Yet after the main course was cleared away, both of them watched the plate with the cream cakes pass them by with sad eyes.  
Imogen successfully ignored their looks as she ate hers, yet Lucas, aware of their hungry, mournful stare, looked up at them as he cut his cake in two halves.

After a moment, he put down his knife and leaned back. "I am afraid I am too full to eat anything anymore", he said and looked across the table. "Is there anyone who would want... half a cream cake?"  
Imogen slowly put down her own cake and looked first at Lucas, then at the children without saying a word or moving a muscle in her face.  
The children stared at their father with huge eyes, exchanged a glance and looked back at Lucas again who looked at them expectantly with raised eyebrows.  
After another moment of silence, Ruben said cautiously: "I already had one, father." Yet his face, his eyes fixed on his father's plate, spoke of different feelings.  
Wordlessly, Lucas picked up his plate and leaned forward to hold it out across the table. And after another moment of hesitation, Ruben picked both pieces and placed one on his plate and the other on his sister's.

Shyly at first but with growing enjoyment, the two of them took care of the piece of cake and after that, smiled somewhat unsurely at their father, still not quite convinced they were truly back in grace.  
"You can go now if you want to play a bit before bedtime", Imogen said to them and they both left the table and made for the door, but stopped there and Ruben bend down to whisper something in his sister's ear. They came back and stopped next to Lucas' chair who, in turn, smiled down at them.  
"Yes?"  
"Thank you", Ruben said and nudged his sister.  
"Thank you, papa", Sassy said with that special smile that made her so irresistible with her huge grey eyes and the unruly black curls.  
Lucas simply nodded and leaned forward to ruffle his son's hair and place a kiss on Sakia's forehead. "Good night. Do not forget your bedtime prayers."

Now smiling earnestly, the two of them made their retreat in the comforting knowledge that their earlier blunder had not done serious damage. Lucas watched them go, shaking his head with a smile. Then he got up to help Imogen get up, offered her his arm, and they both made their way upstairs to the small sitting room where they usually had some tea before going to bed.

Only after Lucas had closed the door behind them did Imogen look at him again, a soft smile on her lips. "You do love them", she said, and it wasn't a question.  
"Of course I do", he replied and took one of Imogen's hands. "Would you doubt it?"  
"No." Still smiling, Imogen leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "As little as I doubt the fact that they love you. I think the worst bit today for them was the fear that you might be angry with them and not like them anymore."  
"It certainly looked that way, yes."  
Imogen looked past him for a moment, a very thoughtful smile on her face. When she looked back at Lucas, he raised his eyebrows.

"They are two angels, aren't they", Imogen said.  
"Most of the time, yes", Lucas gave back, not quite sure where she was going at.  
"So what would you think of... another one?"  
Lucas felt the left corner of his mouth rise. "Another one?"  
Imogen smiled. "Another one."  
"You are..."  
She nodded, the smile widening.  
Staring at her for a couple of heartbeats, he finally let the grin that had been fighting for dominance on his face win and embraced her, kissing the top of her head. "It would make me glad beyond words, Imogen."  
"Do you think this time it will work?"  
"If it is God's will, Imogen. It would certainly be mine."

Imogen leaned back a little to look at him. "I have prayed for another child so long now."  
Lucas looked down at her, his eyes suddenly thoughtful. "You are happy here", he said then, and this sounded like a question.  
"I am", she replied and placed a hand on his cheek. "What makes you think I would not be?"  
"Well... I have just asked myself, occasionally these last years, if you really could be happy so far away from everything you were used to and everyone you knew."  
"And being with the man I love? Something I wished for so dearly for so long a time?"  
Lucas eyes grew tender. "Surely... but..." Then he took a deep breath. "You never meant to go back."  
"No." Imogen still smiled, a little sadly, but only a little. "It was all a dream, Lucas."  
He blinked.

"A dream", Imogen went on. "A little girl's dream. I may have been the pirate, dreaming of being the governor's wife. I might be the governor's wife dreaming of having been a pirate. But it was never real."  
Lucas shook his head in mild puzzlement. "But your ship..."  
"The Albatross", Imogen said softly, almost under her breath. "The Albatross, captained by a woman, is a legend. There is no such thing as a female pirate captain. It's a dream. A story. A legend." She looked at Lucas again with eyes dark with feeling. "It was a dream. A nightmare, sometimes. But I have awoken now, and I am glad it was but a dream. Whatever they tell about the ship and her captain, it is a legend." She leaned forward and nestled her head against his neck and shoulder.  
"But your father..."  
"My father is an honourable merchant."  
"Now", Lucas said, still slightly confused and not knowing what else to say.  
Imogen smiled against his skin.

"Imogen", Lucas said after some moments of silence. "Imogen, but if it all was a dream, or a legend, then what of the woman who captured Nassau, who saved this city from an invading army?"  
Imogen leaned back again to look at his face. "She died", she said simply.  
"But..."  
"Don't you realise? She died. Everyone saw it. She was shot right in the chest, saving your life, dying in her duty. She died an honourable, honest death."  
"But you are..."  
"Am I?"

They looked at one another.

"Aren't you?", Lucas finally dared to ask.  
"Who knows?", Imogen replied with a faint smile. "People believe what they want to believe, and what is easy to believe for them. I know you do not listen to gossip, but I know also that there are quite a few people here in this city who, while they well believe you have married a woman of low standing, also believe that she and the female pirate captain are not the same person. Sure, there is a certain likeness between the two women, how else could van der Vegt have mistaken the one for the other?"  
Lucas couldn't help but goggle at her.

"It is very simple, really. Even while people have heard the name of Imogen Sparrow in the church, some of them cannot believe you have married a pirate, because they do not want to believe it. But they can well enough believe, because they can tolerate it, that you have married a simple merchant's daughter. And to ease their gnawing doubts, there is the fact that a lot of people have seen the captain being shot right in the chest. And she was never seen here ever since. After all, the frigate she was sailing disappeared as well, shortly after that."  
Lucas could only shake his head.  
Imogen shrugged. "There will be two stories, of course. Some people will forget the pirate, and some won't, like the widow Broekenhuis or Willebrands and Grotius with their families."  
"I have neither got well along with Grotius nor with Captain Willebrand", Lucas said absentmindedly.  
"As well", Imogen gave back. "People who do not despise you on principle will try and tolerate this marriage. The rest..." She shrugged again.

"It sounds rather..." Lucas did not quite know what words to use.  
"Humans are so gullible and so easily being lied to", Imogen went on. "And the best person to lie to is yourself, so when faced with a reality they cannot fathom, they will change the facts for so long as it will take them to alter them enough to be able to believe the reality they now create. They will forget the few oddities between this story and the other one soon enough, because they do not wish to see them. Even the priest calling me by name. If it is repeated often enough, they will start to believe they heard another name."

Slowly beginning to understand, Lucas nodded and sighed. "But that means you will..."  
"Be the merchant's daughter, lucky enough to have risen far above her birth and standing."  
"But the fame and the respect you have rightfully earned..."  
"Goes to the person who earned it", Imogen said smugly. "Captain Imogen Sparrow."  
"And she is dead."  
"Is she?"  
Lucas shook his head, now totally confused. "But you just said..."

Imogen now had to grin. "It is very easy to manipulate people, you know. I asked Niels to help me. Just deny something viciously enough, and people will be convinced that there must be something to it. Not so long ago a seaman saw, at the horizon to the north, the black and white barque heading for their ship. The Bird of Prey her captain."  
"So she will forever cruise the Caribbean Sea now?", Lucas said, beginning to understand again.  
"Indeed. It feels quite pleasant, actually, to be a legend even while being alive. And it could be a very useful legend, for Curacao at least. Because everyone knows that she has been sailing for Curacao, under the Dutch flag." She smiled at him under half-closed lids. "Woe unto anyone who should try and attack this city again, for he will face the Bird of Prey, protecting what she always has protected."  
"A nice twist", Lucas said after a while. "Your own legend and a cleaned reputation in one go. I am amazed, but then, I should not be surprised. You have always been very inventive and exceptionally resourceful."

Imogen smiled. "I am glad I have awoken", she whispered. "Because this life is so much better than anything I could ever dream of."  
Lucas leaned forward with a tender smile. "And I am very glad you see it like this", he said and kissed her. "But you shall remain my wild thing forever", he whispered into her ear as his cheek brushed hers. "Bird of prey. My falcon, born wild and free and tamed only by her will."  
Imogen slung her arm around him and sighed. "Kiss me."  
He kissed her, passionate and fiercely, the fire of passion re-fanned that had burned down somewhat since the beginning of their love yet never gone out.

"Shall we retire, maybe?", Imogen asked after a while, breathless and smiling.  
"Gladly", Lucas replied and swept her up into his arms to carry her into the bedroom.

**x x x x x x x x**

It was around that time that the rumours reached the taverns of Tortuga, as well.

Sitting in a crowded tap room with Billy to his right and McLeith to his left, Jack listened intently and incredibly amused to the account of two sailors who swore upon the cross of Christ they had seen the Bird of Prey return to the Caribbean.  
Sipping his drink and smiling into his cup, he listened and waited until they had finished, his mind already racing_. So ye have managed to make yerself a legend, luv, have ye_, he thought. _And a nice and proper one, at that._  
Well, he thought, and the least he could do as a loving father was to help his own and only daughter achieve her goal. Grinning, he put down his cup and exchanged a look with McLeith and Billy, the latter staring at him in unmasked confusion.

_To hell with it all_, Jack thought, _deep down I am still Captain Jack Sparrow, and Jack doesn't let a friend down_. He grinned and leaned forward, wetting his throat with another sip, and waggled his fingers.  
Mc Leith and Billy exchanged a quick grin.

"And do you know what _**I**_ have heard?", Jack said then and the sailors both took a hasty sip of their own tankards and leaned forward greedily.


	78. Chapter 76

**Every journey is over at one time, and every story must end, as does this one. Thanks to all my fans and readers for staying with me during the ride. Thanks for your support, for the reviews, and for sharing with me all their joys, the tears, the fears and the laughs I had during writing this. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing this. Take care of yourselves!**

**Lakritzwolf.**

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**Chapter 76**

The next day, after lunch, Lucas did not go back directly into his office as among the mail of that day, there had been a letter from his brother. As he sat down in his study to read it, he suddenly realised that while he was eager for news and to hear how his family back in Holland fared, the letter did make him not feel sad and melancholic, as all the others had done before. He stared thoughtfully at the familiar writing of his brother Cornelius' hand and realised that somewhen, within the last couple of years, something had happened to him he never would have thought would happen.

He was happy here. Here, in this house, in this city, with his family. His homesickness, faithful companion throughout all those years of exile, had left him, so stealthily that he hadn't even noticed its absence. It was a realisation that awoke strange feelings, and none he could really name. He could vividly remember the turmoil of feelings he had been in when Imogen had brought him that little bit of homeland soil, but he had not even thought about the little box for he did not know how long a time.  
Maybe it had come with the acceptance of the fact that after twelve years there would be no homecoming any more.  
With slow deliberate movements, he broke the seal and opened the letter to learn what news his brother had of the family, the kingdom, and the city of his birth.

A while later, as she brought some tea for the two of them, Imogen found him sitting at his desk and staring at the letter with a pale and waxen face. Hastily she put down the tray and walked up to his side. "Lucas?" He did not look up and Imogen placed a hand on his shoulder. "Bad news?"  
This time, he mutely shook his head, then cleared his throat. It took him still almost two minutes until he found his speech, and when he did so, his voice was husky.

"I have told you about the traitors, the men that betrayed the empire and the colonies, the men that aimed to kill me and you?"  
Imogen nodded. "What about them?"  
"They have all been tried and sentenced. Mostly to death, apart from the head of them all, who is a very important figure, or had been until then. He was banned to his summer residence and not allowed to leave the premises again."  
Imogen felt something cold crawl down her spine and involuntarily clutched her throat. "Is he..."  
"He died, Imogen. Have I ever told you who he was?"  
"No."  


"The Duke of Ijssel, Imogen. And now he is dead, he died, if the rumours are true, from too much alcohol and probably too much shame." And finally, Lucas looked up, a feeling burning in his eyes that Imogen had never seen there before and could not identify. "He died, having only unmarried daughters, bar one. He died without a male heir, apart from his only grandson."  
Imogen blinked, and it took her a while to realise what, or rather whom, he was talking about. "Ruben?"  
Lucas nodded. "My son is the heir of one of the largest dukedoms in the homeland." They exchanged a long, silent glance. "I have been recalled home."

It took Imogen a few moments to comprehend what he had said, and the meaning of his words struck her brain like a fist. "But... but then we must leave now!" She pressed a hand on her belly. "We must hurry! It is already late summer, and if we don't start the crossing now, it's going to be too late and we'll have to wait until spring, but by then I will be too heavy with child, and we will have to wait until it is born, and then until it is strong enough to travel, and then another winter will come... Lucas, we must leave now or we will lose more than two years!"  
Lucas slowly rose from his chair, his face even paler than before. "But Imogen... this is our home now... the house where our children were born, your home... your only home... surely you cannot give it all up that easily..."  
"What are you talking about?", Imogen asked him wide-eyed. "You can go home! Home, after all those years. Home to Utrecht. Touch the soil of your homeland again. That is where your home is, Lucas."  
Lucas could only stare at her.  
"You sad you promised to bring them home. Have you forgotten the home of your heart?"  
He mutely shook his head.  
"The Windhunter is in harbour right now. I shall send word to Niels. They will bring us home."  
"But Imogen..." He finally managed. "What about your family?"  
Imogen looked past him for a second, then back at his face with a hint of sadness in her eyes. "This is my family, Lucas."

Lucas nodded and took a deep breath. "I think..." Then he swallowed and nodded. "I shall send a letter to my brother with the mail runner that leaves tomorrow."  
"I shall speak to Niels right now."

Lucas watched her go, and when she had closed the door, slowly walked up to the window to look out, across the streets of Wilhelmstad.

**x x x x x x x x**

It took them less than two weeks to arrange everything, they packed what was necessary and the rest would be shipped after them next spring. A proxy was found, Admiral van Dijk had declared himself willing to look after the colony's affairs until the new Governor would be named. Apart from that, there were only a few farewells to be made before Imogen and Lucas, together with Ruben and Saskia, boarded the Windhunter on a early morning in late July, after a last embrace and a few tears exchanged with Koenrad and Anneliese de Beer who now stood at the pier, waving a white handkerchief each as the 

Windhunter dropped her sails and slowly left the pier, heading for the mouth of the harbour bay.

With a strange mix of a heavy heart and fearful excitement, Imogen watched Wilhelmstad and Curacao disappear, remembering the first time she had entered the harbour in search for the Albatross, now resting forever at the bottom of the ocean. It seemed to have happened in another life. No, she thought, it _had_ happened in another life. Shreds of memories flashed past her consciousness, the Albatross, hers with the newly acquired letter of marque, the harbour under attack by the English frigate, the fighting men, and the darkening sky on that wondrous day that had marked the changing point of her life.

"I have lived there for twelve years", Lucas said softly beside her. "It somehow feels like leaving home for the second time."  
Imogen silently took his hand and they watched Curacao disappear behind the hazy, blue horizon.

**x x x x x x x x**

It soon became clear to Imogen that they were not heading straight north towards the Mona Passage to pass into the northern edge of the Caribbean north of Hispaniola but that Niels seemed to hold course for the Windward Passage between Jamaica and Tortuga.  
When she enquired about it, he answered that the Governor had requested it and when confronting Lucas about it he looked at her with a worried expression. "I ordered to make harbour in Port Royal, Imogen. Surely you cannot mean to leave the Caribbean without saying farewell to your father?"  
Imogen swallowed and shook her head. She was sure she would want to say farewell to Jack, but what that implied was that she was also saying farewell to Josh a second time. Yet she could only agree and gratefully leaned into Lucas' comforting embrace.

**x x x x x x x x**

A servant opened the door of the manor. "Yes?"  
Lucas spoke before Imogen could say anything. "Will you please make enquiries if Captain McGuyre has some time to spare for a visitor in passing? Lucas van Huuiten."  
The servant nodded and vanished, only to reappear some minutes later. "If you would follow me, milord", he said. "The captain bids you welcome." He led them through the hallway and out of a door at the other end into the garden beyond the house where Jack awaited them already, flourishing his walking cane.

"The governor in person!" He bowed and leaned his cane against the wall. "What brings me the honour of your presence?"  
Instead of an answer, Lucas looked at Imogen who cleared her throat. Jack grinned at her, but then his grin died as he saw her expression. "Imi?"  
"Jack." She let go of Lucas arm and took a step forward. "Daddy. We came to say farewell."  
Jack's confused glance darted back and forth a few times between Lucas and Imogen. "Farewell?"  
"We're going home, daddy."  
"Home?"

"I have been recalled home, Captain", Lucas said. "Back to Europe, to Holland."  
Jack stared at him, and then at his daughter again. "And you're going with him."  
"Dad, I married him." Imogen swallowed again heavily.  
"Of course ye have..." Jack began and looked over his shoulder. "It's just..." And when he turned around again, Imogen saw he had dropped his cheerful facade and looked at her in unmasked sadness. "So this is it, then."  
Imogen could only nod. "I'm sorry, dad. But I have to go."  
Jack nodded as well with a thoughtful frown. "Ye could write."  
"I promise I will." Then she took a step aside and peeled Sassy's face out of the folds of her skirt. "Come on, darling. Say hello to Captain McGuyre. He is the greatest seaman that has ever lived and has braved countless storms, pirates, and even sea monsters!"

Sassy's eyes grew so huge that Jack swore that if he had been standing behind her, he could have seen her lashes, and he stared down at the little girl beside his daughter, looking back twenty years in time. It took him a second to summon up his inner strength again, but he had to admit that she was a sweet little thing. Just like her mama. "Hello darling", he said with a bright, glittering grin. "I'm Jack!"  
Sassy grinned shyly up at him before hiding in her mother's skirt again. Only then did Jack notice the boy who was also standing behind Imogen, yet while the girl was very clearly her mother's daughter, the boy was even more clearly his father's son.

Jack slowly looked up at Imogen again and smiled a soft, tiny little sad smile before turning around and inserting two fingers of his right hand between his lips to emit a shrieking whistle. Three boys, two twins of about five and a boy of seven, emerged from behind a small rise. "Josh, ye rascal, come over here and say hello to someone!"  
Imogen took a step back and clutched her throat while Lucas took a few steps forward to be officially introduced, by Jack, to his godson whom he had never seen in person before. Jack explained to Josh who he was and Josh produced the gold chain with the ring from the neck of his shirt before shaking hands with Lucas.  
Imogen watched all this with a feeling of being totally numb and devoid of any emotions. She knew she would cry her eyes out later, but right now, she couldn't even move a muscle in her face as she slowly closed one arm around Sassy.

After Josh had disappeared again, Jack came back to her and after staring at one another for a few heartbeats, they embraced and Jack held her tightly.  
"Farewell, my darling, my little mermaid. Don't forget yer old shipmate."  
"Oh daddy", was all Imogen could say. "I shall miss ye."  
"Sh. I shall miss ye too. Maybe I come to visit in Europe. How does that sound?"  
Imogen leaned back, a tiny smile on her lips. "Sounds splendid."  
Jack patted her cheek. "Godspeed, luv. Have a safe journey."

They embraced once more before they had to leave due to the pressings of the tides. Jack accompanied them down to the harbour but refused to have Billy or Elizabeth come with them after those two had made their farewells with Imogen. Imogen watched him as she had boarded, standing still at the pier, and she watched him as the ship set sail. She watched him as the ship gained speed and set off, and only then did he take off his hat and waved it one time before turning around and walking back to the manor alone.

Only then did the tears finally come. With a blurring vision and no means to control her tears, Imogen clutched the railing, standing at the stern of the ship, and watched the harbour of Port Royal disappear, and she still stood there even long after the island of Jamaica had disappeared out of sight.

Lucas had left her alone for a while, but after what must have been a couple of hours, he silently walked up to her side and put an arm around her. "I am sorry you would have to go through this on my account, my love", he said.  
Imogen dropped her head against his shoulder. "Don't be. We're going home, after all."  
"My home, yes. It is not yours."  
"My home is with you, Lucas." She closed her eyes. "Have I never told you how Holland enchanted me when I first laid my eyes on it?"  
Putting his other arm around her, Lucas pulled her close. "No", he said, mild wonder in his voice. "You have not."  
"I always wanted to return", Imogen whispered into his shoulder.  
Lucas leaned forward and kissed her temple.

**x x x x x x x x**

They sighted the harbour of Amsterdam on a fine, crisp autumn morning in late September, and this time, it was Lucas who stood on deck, staring out and clutching the railing while Imogen stood beside him with a hand on his arm. The pier came in sight, and after yet some more time, Niels found a place for them to dock.

Neither Imogen nor Lucas noticed the small boy who stared at the ship for a while and then set off as fast as he could, as if the devil was after him. And had they noticed, they would have made nothing of it because they did not know that upon receiving Lucas' letter with their estimated arrival, Cornelius Bonifaas van Huuiten had immediately set off for Amsterdam and it had been him, with help of his friend de Keuper, who had employed a dozen urchins to keep a lookout for the brigantine with the name of Windhunter docking in the harbour and immediately inform him of it.

The ship was docked, the ropes secured, the sails drawn up and finally, the gang plank was shoved down and hit the pier with a wooden clatter. And then, slowly and very deliberately, Lucas picked up Ruben and carried the boy down the plank onto the pier, hesitating for a few seconds before his foot touched the cobblestones. Imogen watched him set the boy down and also noticed the boy's confused expression as his father ran a hand through his hair and said, 

in a voice thick with emotion "Welcome home, my son."

Blinking back her own tears, Imogen now picked up Sassy and carried her down the plank and set her down beside her brother, then looked at Lucas who was staring around him with an expression of disbelief, mingled with almost tearful joy. He clearly had no words to express what he was feeling right now.  
And then, they heard the hoof beats.  
Looking up they saw a man riding up to them, a man who had left the house in haste, wearing no wig and having not taken the time to button up his coat. He reigned in his horse so violently that the poor creature almost reared and jumped out of the saddle to stare at them.  
Imogen and Lucas stared back. The man standing there could have been a twin of Lucas, but for his age, and only then did it occur to Imogen that this was because he must be one of Lucas' brothers.

Wide eyed he walked up to them and the two men stared at each other with pale faces and reddening eyes, thirteen years after they had parted from each other in almost this very spot.

"Ignas", Cornelius whispered.  
"Klaas", Lucas replied, his voice as hoarse as his brother's.  
"By god, I could not truly believe it until this very minute", Cornelius van Huuiten said and hastened forward with open arms. "By all and everything that is holy, god has blessed this day!"

Wiping her eyes, Imogen watched the two men embrace tightly, both of them beyond being ashamed of their tears, laughing and crying at the same time as they slapped each other's back.

As the two brothers finally had let go of each other, Lucas wiped his face, fought for a moment for his countenance, gave up and waved Imogen over, then introduced his family, his son, his daughter, and his wife to his brother.

Cornelius smiled warmly at Imogen and took both her hands in his, then kissed her cheeks. "You shall all live in my house as long as you like. I have a coach readied, and we will be home in Utrecht by nightfall", he said, then looked back at Lucas. "Welcome home."

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**THE END. **


	79. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The day Lizzie died was a crystal clear, beautiful Caribbean day, with blue skies and azure waters and a mild, gentle wind. She had been ill for so long now, lately hardly able to leave her bed, and it seemed as if she had only waited for Josh's sixteenth birthday and then, a few days later, given up.

Stone-faced, Jack sat at her bed side and held her hand as she stared out of the window, her face pale and her eyes sunken, her whole form shrunken and wasted by bone fever and a consumption of the lungs.

"I would so have loved to see the sea once more", she whispered, shifting her tired eyes to Jack's face. "Just one last time."  
Jack returned the look silently for a few seconds, still trying to deny what was happening, still trying to convince himself she would recover and would be fine. But her words made all his attempts futile. He had never felt so helpless before.  
But then he leaned forward, carefully wrapped the blanket around her and gathered her up into his arms. He had little troubles carrying her, with her thin and frail form, even though his leg was giving him more and more troubles lately. He carried her downstairs, and outside, and down the little path where he had led her once before, so many years ago, when he had asked her to sail away with him.

The descent was laborious and painful for him, but he gritted his teeth, tried to keep his face under control and slowly, made his way down the path partly hewn into the cliffs until they reached the shore where he set her down close to the water.  
Waves were gently lapping at the white sand, wetting Jack's boots which he ignored as he sat down and settled Elizabeth on his lap. A fresh breeze ruffled his hair, almost completely white by now, yet against the skin of his neck, he could feel her hot, uneven breathing.

"Remember back when we fought them all and won?", he asked her. "That glorious day where you, you, Lizzie, queen of all pirates, led us all to victory against them, so we could prevail and remain? What glory days they were." He stared at the horizon, his eyes looking far into the past.  
"I should never have let you go, Lizzie, my pirate queen. Never. I lied, you know. Once wasn't enough. Never, once would never have been enough, but I let you go. I wouldn't do so again, god, Lizzie, if I could only go back in time, I wouldn't let you go. But I can't." He didn't realise that her left hand slid down and rested on the cool, moist sand under them, and did not see the wave gently washing over her fingers.

"You were meant to be free, Lizzie", he whispered. "Always and ever meant to be free. That should never have happened. But you're free now, Lizzie. You're free."  
He gently rocked her back and forth in his arms, staring at the horizon which blurred as his vision clouded over. "You're free."

He remained there with her in his arms, staring at the horizon, even long after he could not feel her breath against his neck any more.

**x x x x x x x x**

Jack insisted she was buried at sea. Neither Billy nor Josh had the heart to oppose him, so the Jade Star of Barbados left the harbour of Port Royal a day later, making course south, towards the centre of the Caribbean Sea.

They did not sail more than another two days before they let down their anchor and carried Elizabeth's body, wrapped in a sheet, up on deck.

Little was said. Jack didn't say anything; he left the words of farewell to Billy and Josh. He watched, with an unmoving face, as the body was carried towards the railing, and he watched silently as it disappeared beneath the waves.

Jack just stared at the horizon, whispering words the two others could not hear.

"_Never shall we die..."  
_He kept staring at the horizon as Billy and Josh stepped at his side, flanking him, and Billy laid a hand on his shoulder.

"There's a ship", Jack said after a while.  
Both Billy and Josh followed his gaze.  
"I see only clouds", Josh said.  
"There's a ship", Jack said again, with more intensity in his voice. "Don't you see it? Right there!"  
They followed his gaze as well as his pointing finger, failing to see anything that resembled a ship.

Jack became a little agitated. "I know that ship. I know it…" He narrowed his eyes.  
Behind his back, Josh and Billy exchanged a very worried glance.  
"I know that ship…" Jack said again, leaning forward. "It's…" Then his face lightened up. "It's my ship! It's the Pearl!"  
Both men beside him looked abashed.

Billy squeezed his shoulder. "Jack, are you quite all right?"  
"It's me ship!" Jack grinned. "The Black Pearl!" He took of his hat and waved.  
"Jack!"  
Billy tried to pull him back, but Jack ignored him.  
"It's the Pearl!"

Staring at the ship with delight, Jack set one foot on the railing to wave. "Over here! I'm here!" He climbed the railing and jumped.  
He wasn't aware his body hit the planks of the deck under him.

Billy and Josh exchanged a horrified glance and fell down to their knees beside him, but it was clear that he was gone. Jack was gone.  
"Jack?"  
"Granddad?"

But Jack was gone.

McLeith, Jack's first mate for so long now, slowly went down onto his knee beside them. "He was the last", he said in a low voice "The last one remaining of the whole crew of the Black Pearl. I think he couldn't face being left alone, remaining behind alone."  
Then the Irishman looked up at the horizon where clouds had been piling up. One of them had a vaguely ship-like appearance.

"Let him be buried here, with his lady. He would've wanted it so."

No one refused.

**x x x x x x x x**

"Imogen?"  
Lucas took her arm as she let the letter sink and she looked up, her face wet with tears.  
"My father…"  
He gently laid his hand on her shoulder, knowing what the letter had said.  
"My father's dead." Imogen stared at him with bleak hopelessness in her eyes. "And I couldn't even say farewell."

She had known, of course, known it all along that she would never see him again, that she had said farewell to him long ago, on their journey home, home to Utrecht, where four of their six children had been born, where she had found a new family, where she had been happy, even though she had missed the warmth of the Caribbean nights often enough, especially in winter.

But to actually learn of the death of her father was yet something else than barely having a vague knowledge that he would probably no longer be alive.

Lucas put an arm around her.  
"I didn't think it would hurt that much", Imogen whispered.  
He didn't reply and held her closer.

A knock on the door made them both look up, and a maid entered with a curtsey.

"I am sorry for the intrusion", she said. "But the messenger who brought the letter has refused to leave. He insists that…." She made a face. "He insists that you would receive him."  
"Would we?", Lucas asked. "Did he give his name?"

"Turner", the maid said and Lucas felt Imogen flinch and stiffen in his arms. When he looked at her, he saw she had gone pale and stared with wide eyes at the maid who went on, unabashed. "Joshamee Turner."


	80. Credits

**A few words from the author**

First of all, the world, the concept and the characters in the story of Pirates of the Caribbean is Disney's creation, and I'd like to thank them once again for creating such a story that gave wind and sails to my imagination.

But now, I'd like to make a few points, just for my own sake. I do not speak a word of Dutch, I used a translation service (a private one), only the German bits in the story are my own.

A few of the events told in this story are based on historical facts, but I never held close to any book or any principle; in fact, I mixed eras and centuries rather shamelessly because it suited me. So there.

-There was a war between Holland and England at that time, but never an English attack on the Dutch colony of Curacao as far as I am aware.  
-Holland did issue rather a lot of letters of marque.  
-There was no such thing as a uniformed Dutch Navy at that time.  
-The naval ranks I used are Dutch ones, but most likely from much later times than my story.  
-The cello had been invented shortly before that time. I don't know if it was regarded with scorn or not at first, I made that up.  
-I have completely invented everything about the opium, but it is true that a fit and trained woman can endure much more in terms of pain, shock and loss of blood than a man. We were made for childbirth, after all, which is pretty tough.  
-You can survive being shot in the chest. See above, and you need an awful amount of luck as well. But it is possible. Hardly with a modern bullet, though. But with a pistol ball, you could.  
-I am no believer and having been brought up by Protestants, I have no clue about catholic faith and customs other than reading about them. If I wrote rubbish, then that is entirely my fault and due to my ignorance and not to my not caring. I had not the time to research everything.  
-I have read that when in Liverpool a slave ship was due, you could smell it two weeks before it arrived. It must have been horrendous.  
-It is possible to survive a premature birth without incubator. Not likely, but possible.

**CREDITS**

Credit where credit is due. A few things said in this story were not mine, and I shall list them here, complete to the best of my conscience and my knowledge.

Prologue: _Let me hold the baby, he clearly finds your presence unbearable._ Borrowed from Hugleikur Dagsson, „Should you be laughing at this?" (And that is the title of the book.)

Chapter 05: Thanks to JacksMermaid for the idea with the belching contest. God, I read that months ago, and I just couldn't get the idea out of me head... And no, hun, it is not bad when you make yourself laugh hysterically. I do that meself now and then. (Make meself laugh hysterially while writing something, not just laugh hysterically. I do that quite often)

Chapter 06: _Winners never quit, and quitters never win, but those who never quit AND never win are idiots. _www. despair. com

Chapter 10: _Chiacona a Basso Solo, Guiseppe Colombi, 1670_, does exist. Source: Wikipedia.

Chapter 16: _Just because you're necessary doesn't mean you're important. _www. despair. com

Chapter 20 : _For all the good you do, you get paid in heaven, for all the bad you pay down here. _From _Glory Dayz_ by Kieran Halpin

Chapter 37: _"And in Tortuga, it not only kills the cat but also throws it into the harbour with a lead weight tied to its feet." _ Borrowed from Terry Prattchet. I do not know in which book he wrote that, but it referred to the Shades, a sinister part of the city of Ankh-Morpok, where curiosity not only kills the cat but also ties lead weights to its feet and throws it in the river.

Chapter 41: _In the meadow of sinful thoughts, every flower is a perfect one. _From _She is my sin_ by Nightwish.

Chapter 42: _To most men, experience is like the stem lights of a ship, which illuminate only the track it has passed._ Samuel Taylor Coleridge, English poet and literary critic (1772-1834)

Chapter 42: _Jesus said to them: The right time for me has not yet come. Any time is right for you. _John 7, 6. The Bible

Chapter 71: The one with not being drunk as long as you find your own backside with your hands and then finding someone else's instead is a scene borrowed from Diana Gabaldon, but I can't remember which book of her "Through the Stones"-series it was in.

**THANKS**

My thanks goes to

My mate, lover, friend and soon daddy of our baby, Ben. He was invaluable as research assistant on ships, naval warfare, naval ranks, history, pirates, privateers and maps; he has served endlessly and unrelentingly as my proof reader even when he couldn't be bothered, he has supplied me with coffee, tea, hot chocolate and support throughout and without him, many scenes and jokes wouldn't exist as they are now.

My friend Kate, who, unrelenting and industrious, never failed to cheer me up with her constant reviews and thus, keeping me going even when real life collapsed on me like a friendly ton of bricks and I thought about just letting it all go to the Locker.

My friend Sassy who brought me to tears with the fantastic 3d art she did for me that was inspired by my story, a different kind of review that does not call for any more written words. And apart from that, she helped me make my story all the more alive with her invaluable service as Dutch Translation Engine. Thanks also to her Dutch colleague Paul van Rijmenant who did the actual translating. (Yes, I dedicated the character to him! He probably imagined for weeks that his TNT lorry was a pirate ship...)

All the other reviewers, and those adding the story to favourites, making it worth my while as any story is only then a true story when it is been told to someone, not just written down.

And Fanfiction for providing me with the playground to let my imagination roam, wander, and occasionally, climb up somewhere and hurt itself while falling.

**SOUNDTRACK**

Great Hall of Composers by Classic FM. Brilliant sampler of classical music for all moods.

Loreena McKennitt: _The Mask and the Mirror_ and _Book of Secrets_ (again) for the emotional parts.

Paul Tortelier: _Cello Suites 1-3_ and _Cello Suites_ _4-6_ by J. S. Bach. (No, I'm being serious. I bought them...)

Nightwish: _Wishmaster._ Great music for Nassau and other action scenes.

The soundtrack of _Braveheart_

Stephen Edmundson: _Journey beyond the isles_. Folk and classical music for hammered dulcimer and harp.

Sinéad O'Connor: _Sean Nos Nua._ Beautiful collection of Irish traditional. Soft music for soft moments.

**-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- **

That's it, folks. The end of my epic adventures. I need to take a timeout from everything, including Fanfiction, but not permanently. Check out my profile for details if you are interested. Otherwise, have a great life.

Cheers,

Lakritzwolf.


	81. After Credit Scene

**After Credit Scene**

Cold water closed over him in a splash, and disoriented and almost panicked, Jack kicked his legs, treading water, until after what seemed like endless minutes, his head emerged and he could gasp for air.

Almost directly before him, a ship's side rose out of the waves, and he looked up… into black sails billowing in the wind. With a grin, he stretched himself and held for the ship, and grinned even broader as he passed a small, black, familiar structure bobbing on the waves. Grabbing this in one hand and heading for the ship with the other, he held for the amidships section where someone had a rope dangling down, waiting just for him.

Several pairs of hands helped him climb aboard and when his boots hit the planks, he straightened up, put on his sodden hat and looked around.

"Jack!"  
He spun around to see Elizabeth, dressed in pirate garb, running towards him.  
"Jack!" To his utter surprise, she threw herself bodily at his own, drenched and dripping form and slung her arms around him. "Oh, god, I thought I'd never see you again! We thought you'd gone down with them!"

Jack felt awfully confused, his brain was muddled and somehow he had the feeling as if he had the worst hangover in his life. But he couldn't even remember any rum being involved… but then, these were the worst morning after experiences, the ones where you couldn't even remember drinking…

"Gone down with whom?" He leaned back and gingerly peeled Elizabeth away from him.  
She gave him a confused look. "From the navy vessel that captured you?"  
Jack turned his head to look over his shoulder, and saw the remains of a stern just vanishing beneath the waves. Clouds of powder still wafted across the waves and floating debris. "Ah. Of course." He had been… had been what?  
"You'd been trying to negotiate, but then you didn't come back, and then they started firing on us…"

Jack looked at Elizabeth again.  
"I was sure I'd never see you again when she started to sink…."  
"Luv", Jack said, still feeling muddled. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." Then he frowned. "What are ye doing on me ship anyway?"  
Elizabeth took a step back. "What do you mean, what am I doing here? You insisted I'd stay!"  
"Did I?" Jack waggled his fingers, and Elizabeth gave him a look that would have felled a lesser man. "Of course I did!" He tried a grin.  
Elizabeth smiled hesitatingly. "You surely must remember? Once is not enough? You changed your mind and said… no, once is never enough. You do remember that? Or were you drunk?" She leaned forward and sniffed at his face. "Or are you drunk now?"

"Wish I was", Jack said. "I feel as if someone had muddled with me head. Feels like I drank, but I can't remember the drinking, and that's not fair, having only the hangover and none of the fun..."  
"Oh Jack", Elizabeth said, her voice suddenly gentle. "They must have hit you in the head." She touched his cheek. "Poor man."

Jack tried a cautious grin. Somehow, in his sluggish memories, things began to crystallize. He had been trying to trick something… right, passage, free passage, out of the navy captain, and had been captured. Yes, that was it. His mind was still clogged like a blocked drainpipe, but things began to dribble through.

He put an arm around Elizabeth. How on earth could he have forgotten her? She smiled up at his face, but there was still a trace of worry in her eyes.

"Are you feeling quite all right, Jack?"  
"Never been better", he replied. "Although I must admit that... well, I have been better. Getting hit over the head is not necessarily a favourite past time of me, luv."  
"I hope your head will recover from that", Elizabeth said and wound one of the strands of his beard around her finger. Jack had to grin, but there was still something, something strange, something foggy sitting at the bottom of his mind, as if there was something he had forgotten that didn't want to be forgotten…

"Jack?"  
Jack cleared his throat. "I had a strange dream", he said, staring past Elizabeth, trying to grasp what seemed like something built of nothing more than dry dust. It crumbled inevitably away under the clumsy probing of his mental fingers.  
"What did you dream of?"  
A last gush of wind blew everything away. Nothing was left, nothing apart from… a feeling of…

"I dreamed I had a daughter", he said, and even to his own ears that sounded awfully strange. He looked at Elizabeth who, in turn, suddenly avoided his eyes. "Lizzie?"  
She bit her lower lip. "You know, Jack... I didn't really…" She tried a smile as she looked up again. "I didn't want to tell you before I was really sure…"  
Jack stared at her, his eyes widening and his grin turning into a stained mask of bared teeth as if the grin was trying to get away from his face and using both corners of his mouth at once.

Elizabeth looked down again. "I realise that this is a major inconvenience, and maybe once we're in Tortuga I can find someone…"  
"No." Jack pulled her close in a fierce, quick movement. "No, Lizzie…" He leaned forward and caught her eyes. "No you…" What a strange thought… and even as he said it, it sounded strange to his own ears. "You have no idea how right this feels."  
Elizabeth smiled, shyly at first and then brighter as Jack grinned, and after a few seconds, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Around them, the crew broke out in hailing screams and Jack broke the kiss and leaned back. "Get to your posts, ye bloody scallywags! Do we want to keep picking up barnacles here or are we going for a celebration in Tortuga?!"

Hectic bustle broke out on deck as the men went to their stations, and Jack let go of Elizabeth and sauntered over to the helm, taking the wheel in one hand and deliberately taking out his compass, opening it with a practised flourish.  
He stared at the compass. He looked at Lizzie. He grinned and shrugged, closing the compass with a snapping of the lid.

Lizzie stepped over to his side, took the compass from his belt and opened it. Jack followed her gaze as the needle spun, slowly, and came to rest on him. They looked at each other, smiled, and then, simultaneously, their expression changed from tender amusement to cautious calculation. Jack let go of the wheel and Lizzie held her hands out, and both of them closed their hands around the compass, watching the needle spin, and spin and spin…

...and come to halt, pointing at…

They followed the needle with their eyes.

"What?", said Mr Gibbs as the two of them stared at him in horrified astonishment. Then he held out his arms and brought forth two bottles of rum, one in each hand. "I thought we'd celebrate the captain's safe return and all…"

Jack and Lizzie exchanged a look that turned into a grin, then a laugh. Howling with laughter, they accepted the two bottles handed to them by a very confused Mr Gibbs, and Lizzie snuggled into Jack's embrace as he took the wheel with one hand after stowing away the bottle in his sash.  
A fresh breeze caught in the sails and with the sound of billowing canvas and creaking wood, the Black Pearl caught up speed and left the sinking navy vessel behind.  
.

.

.

And far, far away, somewhere north of the Caribbean and south of the Arctic Circle, in a small cave on a small island lit only by a faint, blue sheen, a figure crouched over a small puddle of water, watching the images in the surface that illuminated her face in a pale shine. She observed the ship with black sails and gently blew on the water, watching as the sails billowed in the breeze and the ship headed for the horizon before the image vanished in the ripples her breath had created.

She leaned back, the pale blue light creating reflections of water on her face.

And Calypso smiled.


End file.
